


Playing the Field

by this_is_kelly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, American Football, Football | Soccer Player Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), HEA, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Modern Era AU, Soccer, Sports, UST, american football player Arthur pendragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_kelly/pseuds/this_is_kelly
Summary: Arthur is the star player for Chicago's professional football team.  Merlin is on the coaching staff in Montreal.  A chance meet-up turns into a one-night stand, but one night ends up not being enough and now they're both in over their heads.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 218





	Playing the Field

**Author's Note:**

> I realize not all the details of the MLS schedule matches, but I made it work for what I needed for this story.

**Playing the Field**

***

**October 2016**

**US Open – Chicago**

**_Merlin_ **

There are five of them at the table; normally Merlin wouldn’t even be up here, but considering their goalkeeper didn’t let a single ball past him during the penalty shoot-out, the press may have questions for his old goalkeeper coach. He doesn’t feel as though he belongs up here, certainly not sitting between the head coach and Chicago’s star player. He tries to concentrate as the press asks their questions. He doesn’t actually expect any to be directed at him. 

“Arthur,” one of the journalists in the front row asks, “this was your best season ever – what made this year different?”

Arthur clears his throat and leans a little closer to the microphone. “The team knows each other now, we are a united front. Great players, great coaches.”

“Leon,” another journalist starts, “how’d it feel to have a game with zero goals scored on you?”

“Amazing.”

Merlin smirks. Lance is a man of few words.

“Leon” – another journalist, this one Merlin recognizes from ESPN – “what went through your mind when you blocked that final kick?”

“I thought ‘finally!’”

There’s a low roar of laughter.

“And then,” Leon continues, “I thought about my girlfriend in the stands, watching me, and she’s my biggest fan, you know? It was nice knowing she was able to see me do something great.”

“Lance,” a different journalist says, “what about you? You also had your best season yet. What went through your mind tonight?”

Merlin’s eyes drift over the room. Journalists from different magazines, news outlets, blogs, all in the room to ask them questions about their season. He feels Arthur shift in the seat next to him. Arthur has always enjoyed being the center of attention on the field, but enjoys talking about himself less. It’s an interesting balance Merlin’s noticed over the years. 

Then a question for Arthur flags Merlin’s attention.

“Arthur, bear with my question for a moment. You’ve never had a platform before, but now that you’re one of the most popular players in the league, do you think now is the time to tell people what you stand for?”

Arthur clears his throat. “I don’t understand the question. There are some things that are in the works that I can’t talk about yet, but I don’t know that I would call it a platform.” 

Lance leans back and whispers something in Arthur’s ear. Arthur shakes his head.

“Let me rephrase, the reporter says. Two years ago you were photographed leaving a gay bar. Your statements afterwards weren’t really statements at all. You acknowledged being there, but you didn’t take a stance on the LGBTQ community.”

“You didn’t ask a question,” Arthur says. “Can we move on?”

Another reporter latched on to the subject. “Arthur, can you explain why you’ve never taken a stance on LGBTQ issues?”

“Because they don’t have a place in soccer.” When the room erupts in questions and raised hands, Arthur waves his own hand in the air. “Wait, wait. No, I didn’t explain that well. We play soccer. It shouldn’t matter how any identifies because on the field, we are all soccer players, end of story. The rest doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about soccer and how we won the US Open.”

As the reporters in the room raise their hands for more questions, Arthur whispers in Merlin’s ear, “This is fucking out of control.”

“Arthur, do you care to comment on the photo or take a stance on any LGBTQ issues?”

Arthur rubs one of his eyes and clears his throat. He leans a little closer to the microphone. “Yes, I was leaving a gay bar. I was leaving alone, which no one ever seems to want to talk about. Yes, I went to the bar knowing it was a gay bar.”

“What about your stances on LGBTQ issues?’ the reporter shouts, trying to get their question answered again.

“Like what issues? Are there gay soccer issues I should be commenting on?”

Merlin can hear Lance’s snicker from two seats away.

“Arthur – Arthur – are you gay?”

“No.” Merlin watches him, he can see his body tense. This is absolutely not what either of them expected from this press conference. 

“Can we get back on track?” the Head Coach says into his mic. He’s sitting on the other side of Merlin. “We’re here to talk about how Chicago won the US Open.”

When another reporter is called upon, he says, “So, Arthur, you’re saying you’re not part of the LGBTQ community?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment before saying, “No, that’s not what I said.”

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Merlin mutters under his breath. He waits one second, two seconds, three …

And then all the reporters in the room work out what Arthur has just said and chaos erupts. 

***

**FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO**

**February 2012**

**Preseason –** **Montréal**

**_Arthur_ **

He takes a sip of his drink and scans the bar. The first game of the preseason went remarkably well. He scored two goals against Montreal and even though they ended up tying, it felt good to play again. This is his first year playing for Chicago and apparently some of his teammates weren’t particularly happy with his contract, but he didn’t care. He knows he’s not the highest paid athlete in the MLS but he’s still happy with his salary.

Arthur turns his back to the bar and leans his elbows against it and continues to watch everyone at their tables, on the dance floor. The rest of his team are at a bar down the street, but Arthur wasn’t looking for a party; he’s looking for something else. There’s a lot of beautiful women here, and a couple have tried to catch his eye, but for some reason, they aren’t holding his attention tonight.

A man walks up to the bar and stands in the empty space next to Arthur. He’s tall and thin, but not skinny. Maybe a little awkward, but in a sweet way, not a comical one. He orders a drink and then meets Arthur’s gaze momentarily before looking away.

“Hey,” Arthur says. “What’s up?”

The man looks over at him again, but doesn’t say anything.

“Er, bonjour?” Arthur offers again.

“ _Bonsoir_.” 

“ _Comment allez-vous_?”

Something flashes in the man’s eyes; it looks a bit like amusement. “ _D’accord_.”

Arthur’s memory of high school French is rusty at best. “ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi_?” He tries for a joke; hopefully the man will find it charming.

The man snorts out a laughter. “ _Parler le français comme une vache espagnole_.” He takes his drink from the bartender and thanks him. “I speak English,” he says to Arthur and takes a long sip from his glass.

“Thank god. Sorry, I know most people here speak French.”

“Your accent is weird. Not American.”

“No, I moved to America when I was twelve. I’m from Wales, so my accent is a mix of both. I’m Arthur.” He holds out a hand.

“Merlin.” He shakes Arthur’s hand. “Are you here alone? Where are your friends?”

Arthur shrugs. “Sometimes I like to be alone. This is the first time I’ve ever been to Canada.”

Merlin assesses him. Arthur feels as though he’s looking straight through him.

“You are in a strange country and left your friends behind to pick up anonymous men so that no one finds out you’re gay?”

“Bi,” Arthur corrects. “And something like that.”

“You should have gone to a gay bar.”

“I didn’t know if I’d end up in the mood for a man or a woman tonight.”

“Should I be flattered that you picked me to talk to, then?”

“Of course. I’d make it worth your while.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I don’t like cocky men. Good luck.”

As he steps away from the bar, Arthur also takes a step. “Wait,” he says. “You’re right. How about we sit for ten minutes and if you still don’t like me then you can go back to your friends?”

“And you’ll pick another victim?”

“Ouch.”

Merlin looks over at a table where four people are sitting. One of them, a man with sandy brown hair, gives Merlin a thumbs up.

“Your friend approves of me.”

Merlin turns back to Arthur. “My friend approves of getting laid in general. But all right, ten minutes.”

They both sit on empty bar stools and Arthur buys them both another round. He has no idea why he’s doing this – normally he doesn’t work so hard for a lay.

“So what do you do, Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head. “I’ll answer that at the end of the ten minutes,” he says. “I don’t want to hear about your job either.”

“Interesting. Okay then. You like Montreal?”

“We moved here when I was three. It’s home, I suppose.”

“Where were you born?”

“Manitoba.”

“I don’t know where that is,” Arthur admits.

“It’s a province. You know what? Never mind.”

“I live in Chicago. I think it’s colder here, but the wind is worse there.”

Merlin is quiet for a moment. “Favorite movie,” he says.

Arthur raises his eyebrows in surprise at the abrupt subject change.

“Let’s see if we’re even compatible, yeah? I like my one-night stands to at least try to work for it a little bit.”

Game on, Arthur thinks. “ _Shawshank Redemption_.”

“Bullshit. That’s what people say when they want to sound impressive.”

Arthur wants to be offended, but he’s actually rather charmed. “Fine. _Reservoir Dogs_.”

“Nice try, but that’s only when you want to be pretentious. The guy’s ear gets cut off. You can’t say _Pulp Fiction_ either.”

“Maybe these really are my favorite movies.”

“When you’ve had a really shitty day at work, what do you watch to make yourself feel better?”

“ _How to Train Your Dragon_.”

Merlin is quiet and he narrows his eyes slightly as though trying to decide if Arthur is being earnest. “Amazing choice. I actually believe you. You probably own it on Blu-ray.”

Arthur does, actually. He’s seen it seven times. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“ _Lola rennt_ is the best one I’ve seen lately and I keep thinking about it, but what I watch after a bad day is _Princess Bride_.”

“Surprising, but believable. I don’t know what _Lola rent-whatever_ is, but I don’t want you to tell me because I’m sure it’ll make me come across as completely uncultured. What’s your favorite book?”

“ _Lord of the Rings_.”

“That’s the wrong answer. _Harry Potter_ would have given you optimal points.”

Merlin cracks a smile. “ _Harry Potter_ isn’t bad. You don’t look like someone who enjoys reading.”

“Should I be insulted right now?”

Merlin shrugs. “I suppose that’s up to you. What’s your favorite color?”

“Cobalt.”

“Isn’t that a crayon?”

“It’s a shade of blue, but yes, also a crayon.”

There’s another flash of amusement in Merlin’s eyes. He’s playing him, Arthur realizes.

“Fine, I like blue,” Arthur says. “Yours?”

“Cerulean.”

“Talk about your crayon colors,” Arthur mumbles and Merlin laughs. He has a nice laugh. Arthur would like to hear other sounds come out of Merlin’s mouth … has it been ten minutes yet?

“All right, last question,” Merlin says. “It’s your turn so make it a good one.”

Arthur thinks for a moment and then says, “What was your favorite memory from when you were a kid?”

“That’s deep,” Merlin says, looking a little surprised. “Let me think a moment …” He pauses and takes a long sip of his drink. He ends up emptying the glass before setting it back down. He clears his throat. “My mother was a writer,” he says. “She still is, I guess. She wrote children’s books and when she’d have a new idea, she’d make us act them out, say the dialogue. Her main character was this mouse and one of the books was about a pirate ship so we went to the beach for a week and walked on the sand and took a boat out into the ocean. She wanted to know what the water felt like for when she wrote about it.”

“That’s amazing,” Arthur says. 

Merlin shrugs.

“I’m being serious. How cool is that? My dad does something with banking, I’m not even sure what. We certainly don’t have a lot of interesting memories like you do.”

“What’s your favorite memory then?”

“Every year for Christmas we go skiing in Vermont. I know it sounds super privileged, right? But Christmas was the only time my dad would pull himself away from work long enough to pay attention to us when we grew up. So now my sister and I still go even though my dad doesn’t always show. Depends on who his newest girlfriend is.”

“That’s depressing.”

“It’s normal.”

“You’re more interesting than I thought you would be,” Merlin admits.

“Great! So you’re definitely thinking about what it would be like to come back to my hotel with me, aren’t you?”

Merlin takes a deep breath. “I’m the goalkeeping coach for the Montréal Impact.”

Arthur feels as though the wind was just knocked out of him. “You’re not serious.”

Merlin shrugs.

“Fuck,” Arthur says. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I knew who you were immediately. I thought we’d talk for a few minutes and I’d remember you’re a dumb athlete and you’d find someone else to pull tonight, but you’re frustratingly charming. Charming enough to see what else you might be. But I can’t sleep with you without you knowing…”

“Knowing that you work for another team? We just played you guys a few hours ago.”

“I know.”

“Your goalkeeper was fucking amazing.”

“Yours is good, too.”

“Gwaine is brilliant. Best goalkeeper of any team I’ve played on. I can’t believe you’re part of another team!” Arthur rubs a hand over his face. “You look too young to be a coach.”

“Not a head coach or anything. Goalkeeper coach. I’m twenty-nine.”

“Old man. I’m only twenty-five. This is such a bad idea. If any of my teammates find out they’ll be furious.”

“You think mine wouldn’t consider this sleeping with the enemy, as it were?”

“Probably.”

“So we agree this is a bad idea?” Merlin says.

“Yes. It’s a really, _really_ bad idea,” Arthur agrees.

“We’re going to do this anyway, aren’t we?”

“Yes. I’m staying in room 1214 next door. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

***

It’s not ten minutes. It’s closer to thirty and Arthur is beginning to think Merlin has had second thoughts about this. When there’s a knock at his door, Arthur is actually shocked. 

“ _Bonsoir_ ,” Merlin says when Arthur throws open the door. “ _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi_?”

“Fuck _oui_ ,” Arthur breathes. He takes hold of the front of Merlin’s shirt and pulls him inside his room.

Merlin laughs, shrugs off his coat and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. Arthur pushes him up against the wall and crowds into his space. He waits, for the barest of moments, before pressing their mouths together. Kissing isn’t something he always does, but Merlin has the most infuriating smirk that’s just begging to be kissed away.

“How’d you manage a single room?” Merlin asks as he lightly shoves Arthur away. “You have on too many clothes, you know.” He slips past Arthur and makes his way towards the one of the two queen-sized beds. He undoes his belt but doesn’t get any further before Arthur presses himself against Merlin’s back and kisses his neck. He reaches around and undoes the buttons of Merlin’s trousers. He palms Merlin and feels him get harder under his touch.

“Ugh,” Merlin groans. “You play dirty off the field, too, don’t you?”

“I want to be the one to undress you.”

“Okay, but you’re so slow. Hurry it up.”

“Damn, you’re feisty.”

Merlin laughs and Arthur feels it in his bones. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to be fun,” Arthur says.

Merlin grabs Arthur’s wrist and pulls his hand away. He turns around and presses their lips together again. 

“And I have a feeling you’re going to be a needy top, so come on,” Merlin replies breathily against Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur obliges. 

***

The bedsheets are completely trashed. Arthur has no idea where any of his clothes are. If he had to rank one-night stands, this one probably tops the list, and Arthur’s slept with a couple of supermodels and a high-profile actress who had a lengthy NDA. He glances at the clock on the bedside table and groans. The flight back to Chicago is scheduled for only five hours from now.

Merlin sits up and stretches. Then he stands and starts looking through the crumpled bedlinens for his clothes. His boxer-briefs go on first, which Arthur finds extremely disappointing. Once he’s dressed, Merlin grabs his phone off the floor and starts tapping away at it.

“Looking for a taxi service,” Merlin says before Arthur can ask.

“You don’t have Uber in Canada?”

“Not in Montréal.”

“Shame.”

Merlin finds his coat and pulls it on. He crosses the room to lean over Arthur and give him a kiss goodbye.

“You were right – you made it worth my while. Thanks.”

Arthur laughs. “Sure thing. You know … we’re back here in May.”

Merlin’s face falls ever so slightly. “This was great fun, but this is also a really _bad_ idea. _Affreux_. Let’s not push our luck.”

“How about you give me your number and we’ll see if you change your mind in a couple of months?”

Merlin shakes his head. “You’re very persistent. But no, we’re on opposing teams.” He kisses Arthur one more time. “ _Au revoir_.”

Arthur is slightly dumbfounded as he watches Merlin leave his hotel room. He’s not used to rejection – in fact it almost never happens. On the other hand, he’s relieved Merlin didn’t try to stay the night or want to cuddle afterwards. Arthur doesn’t like that in his one-offs. He prefers them to leave when they’re done, and he’s fine with Merlin leaving; he was just hoping for a replay in three months when they’re both in the same city again. Oh well, Arthur thinks, and settles into bed to get some sleep.

### ***

**May 2012**

**Game #10 –** **Montréal**

**_Merlin_ **

“Leon!” Merlin practically yells at his goalkeeper. “ _Ce qui la baise_ _!_ _Merde!_ ” He feels as though he’s seeing nothing but red. They’ve worked together for the last three _years_ on his goalkeeping skills and in one match Leon is playing as though he’s still in high school. Un-fucking-believable. They were on the same club team before Montréaljoined the MLS Eastern Conference this year. There’s three minutes until half-time and Merlin is ready to pull Leon from the game.

He goes up to their second goalkeeper and sits next to him on the bench. “ _Es-tu prêt_ _?_ ” Are you ready?

“ _Ouais_.”

When the whistles blow, all the players from Impact de Montréal come running over to the sidelines. Merlin stares at Leon and pulls him over to the side. The team walks off the field and towards the locker room for their quick break, but Merlin follows at a much slower pace.

“ _C’est quoi ton problème_?”

“Stop talking French to me. You speak too fast for me to translate.”

Merlin stops walking a few feet outside the locker room door. “What’s your problem tonight? Where’s your head?”

“I dunno.”

“This isn’t like you. You’re better than this. Do I need to pull you? Owain is ready to go in your place.”

Leon takes a deep breath. “I dunno,” he says again. He doesn’t look at Merlin. “My girlfriend and I got into a fight before the game.”

Merlin throws up his hands in exasperation. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

A security guard walks up to them. “Excuse me,” he says. 

Merlin whirls around. “What now?” he snaps.

The guard is very young and looks a little scared. Merlin immediately calms himself and apologizes.

“ _Ça va_. Uh, I’m not supposed to do this, but I was asked to give this to you.”

Merlin glances down at the guard’s hand. He has a folded-up piece of paper between his fingers.

“What is that?” He doesn’t take it.

“It’s from – I’m not supposed to tell you who it’s from, I don’t think.”

Merlin glances at Leon. “Go in there and let someone else yell at you for a while. I’ll see you back on the field.” When they’re alone in the corridor, Merlin turns to the security guard. “Tell me.”

“One of the players from the other team.”

“ _Salaud_.”

The guard flinches.

“I didn’t mean you – you know what? Thank you very much, but best not speak of this to anyone.”

“I promise.”

Merlin takes the note and glances around the corridor to ensure he’s alone before opening it.

**_Let’s at least see if we’re as_ **

**_good as we were last time._ **

**_We owe ourselves that!_ **

**_Same hotel_ **

**_Room 1432_ **

**_8pm_ **

Merlin crumples up the note and tosses it into a rubbish bin on the way back out onto the field. He says a string of curse words in his head as he looks out at the stadium full of fans and the players from the other team who have come back out on the field. He sees Arthur over there, number 19, and for a moment, he thinks Arthur is looking back at him, too.

“This is such a bad idea,” Merlin mumbles to himself. He wishes he hadn’t already memorized Arthur’s room number. That will make it a lot harder to stay away from him.

***

It’s 8:15pm and Merlin can’t decide if he’s going to take the elevator upstairs or not. This is the worst idea he’s ever had and if Arthur wasn’t so charming he’d be back at his own flat watching Netflix or perhaps out with a couple friends having a drink. Instead, he made excuses to both Will and Freya and took his car to the hotel. Last time he made the mistake of having Will drive him, effectively leaving him stranded at the hotel. It took him almost an hour to catch a cab home. Tonight he’s driving his own vehicle. He feels good that he’s got an escape plan this time.

Except the fact that thinking of his own car as an escape plan is clearly an indicator that this is a terrible idea. Well, he’s already here. He may as well tell Arthur to his face that they can’t sleep together again.

Merlin takes the elevator up to the fourteenth floor and finds 1432. He knocks and Arthur is there to let him in almost immediately. He looks so good, all lean muscles and thick thighs under his pajama pants and t-shirt. His hair looks a little wet on the ends as though he just out of the shower. He smells a little minty, like toothpaste, and he looks a little tired, but he played one hell of a game that afternoon. Arthur is definitely better looking than most of the guys Merlin hooks up with. 

“I knew you’d be back.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and walks into the hotel room. “I’m only here to tell you we can’t do this.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, okay, sure. You look good. Did you cut your hair?”

“It’s been a couple months … I’m sure I have, but I look the same.”

“Something’s different about you.”

“I’m exactly the same,” Merlin argues.

Arthur shakes his head. “Nope, I think you’re going to have to get naked and then I can better assess.”

Merlin laughs and then immediately clamps his mouth shut. “Don’t do that. I’m here to tell you no.”

“Can you tell me no without any clothes on?”

Merlin shakes his head. “You played a shitty game today.”

“Nice try, but I was amazing today! You can’t insult me and think I’m going to change my mind.”

“I’m the coach of a rival team.”

“It’s just sex, Merlin. Besides, last time I didn’t get to suck you off and I’m kind of in the mood for that.”

Merlin groans. Arthur is one hell of a persuader. “Fine, but if this time isn’t as good as last time then we promise to never do it again.”

“Sounds like a challenge. But you can’t purposefully sabotage us either.”

Merlin nods. “Agreed.”

Arthur reaches for him and crushes their mouths together.

***

It is one-hundred percent, without a doubt, better than last time. Merlin has no idea how that is even possible, but he’s lying on Arthur’s hotel bed, catching his breath, and wiping remnants of Arthur off the corner of his mouth. He needs water and a shower and perhaps a cigarette, even though he’s never smoked before.

“You’re infuriating,” Merlin says.

“I hear that a lot, but usually from my teammates.”

“How’d you manage a single room again? Doesn’t everyone bunk up?”

“I bribed my roommate to go share with two other guys tonight. I offered to steer clear of the room next time he wants to use the hotel for a hookup, no questions asked.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you considering you didn’t even know if I’d come around.”

“Oh, I was positive you’d be here,” Arthur says.

“So cocky.”

Arthur laughs. Then they’re both silent for a while. Merlin doesn’t know what to say and he certainly doesn’t want to accidentally fall asleep and wake up at the same time Arthur is clearing out for his flight home. He sits up and starts to gather his clothes.

“I think your moves improved since the last time,” Arthur says.

“I don’t know if I should say _thank you_ to that.”

Arthur gets up and goes to the desk and grabs a pen and starts writing something on the hotel stationary. Merlin tries not to watch and finishes getting dressed instead. Arthur tears off the piece of paper and walks over to where Merlin stands.

“For you,” he says. “Your team will be in Chicago in two months. Text me if you want to hook up again.”

“We didn’t agree whether this time was as good as last time,” Merlin argues.

“If how hard you came down my throat is any indication, I’d say this time was definitely better than last time.”

Merlin wants to object, but he really can’t. “ _N’importe quoi_ _._ ”

“Don’t read so much into this,” Arthur says. “We have really good sex and unless one of us suddenly gets a serious boyfriend – or girlfriend, in my case, I’m not picky – then I think we should keep this option open.”

Merlin really, _really_ wishes he could resist, but he can’t. Arthur is right. He grabs the paper with Arthur’s phone number on it and shoves it in his pocket.

“Fine,” he says, “but I don’t make any promises.”

Arthur grins. “Great. I’d offer to go again but—”

Merlin shakes his head. “No, no. I need to get back to my flat. If we go again, I’ll end up sleeping here and I really don’t want to leave and have any of your teammates see me in the same hotel.”

“Good call.”

Merlin leans forward and kisses Arthur’s cheek. “Thanks for the orgasm. I appreciate it.”

Arthur laughs. “Back at you.”

***

When Merlin finally wakes up the next morning he feels slightly disoriented. He rarely goes to bed as late as he did last night, and even though today is an off day for him, he still doesn’t want to sleep in too late. He gets up, brushes his teeth, and throws on some workout clothes. He takes a jog around his neighborhood and stops by Starbucks for a caffé américano misto and a water. Instead of running, he walks back to his flat, sipping his coffee along the way.

Once he’s back inside, he showers, makes some toast. He turns on his television and flips through the channels.

He’s literally trying anything to keep his mind off the phone number burning through the pocket of his trousers. Groaning in frustration, Merlin gets up and goes to the hamper in his closet to fish out the folded-up paper still in trousers from the night before.

He hadn’t yet looked at it, but when he opens it, it’s just a number. Ten digits. He has an international calling plan because the club pays for it for when he has to use his mobile phone when they’re traveling in the United States, so it’s not as though he can use their separate countries as an excuse not to text him. But surely Arthur didn’t mean for Merlin to contact him in between game times? He sure hopes not. This is so ridiculous.

Merlin grabs his phone and rings his friend.

“ _Allo_.”

“ _Salut,_ _Guillaume_.” Merlin is relieved to hear his best friend’s voice. 

“ _Quoi de neuf_?” What’s up, Will asks.

“Remember that guy I left the bar with several months back?” Merlin asks, also in French. “The one with the blonde hair.”

“ _Oui_.”

“I hooked up with him again last night.”

Merlin can almost hear Will’s grin through the phone. “Fantastic,” Will says. “What’s the problem?”

“He gave me his number. Said when I’m in Chicago – that’s where he lives – to call him up.”

“All right …”

“I’m going to tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I like secrets,” Will says. “Go ahead.”

“He’s a player. Football. Eastern Conference so my team plays his team.”

“He plays football? Could you get in trouble for sleeping with a player?”

“I’m not sure,” says Merlin, “but it certainly can’t look good, can it?” He groans. “Here’s the dilemma. He gave me his number, right?”

“Yes, you already said.”

“So what do I do with it?” 

“Was the sex good?”

“Amazing,” Merlin answers with a whimper. “Probably the best hook-up I’ve ever had.”

“Better than me?”

“No comparison.”

“Impressive. So call him when you’re in Chicago. What’s the harm?”

“I don’t want him to think I want to date him or expect anything more than sex. I really don’t even like him all that much. He’s charming, but cocky, and you know I hate cocky men. We’re just really good together in bed.”

“Merlin, I love you, but you never let yourself go and have fun. Give yourself the chance to let loose. Next time you’re in Chicago, go meet with him, let him fuck you, and then you’ll at least be more relaxed for the flight home.”

Merlin considers this. “I’m usually not this easy. I don’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

“You had sex with him twice, both when he was in town for only a night. I’m not sure what other impression you could have given other than ‘easy.’”

“Touché.”

“You definitely do not want anything more than sex from him?”

“No, nothing. We didn’t even have a proper conversation last night.”

“Probably difficult to have a conversation with a cock in your mouth.”

“Jesus Christ, Will!”

Will laughs loudly. “So then, do that,” he says. “Have your sex and then if he starts to act like he wants more, you can block his number, refuse to go out with him. Do me a favor and don’t talk about football with this guy, okay? I don’t want any of our team secrets getting out.”

Merlin sighs. He’s unconvinced. This still seems like an epically terrible idea. He hopes Arthur is smart enough to keep it all a secret as well, because he doesn’t want to deal with the fall-out if anyone finds out he’s sleeping with a player on another team. Still, their teams only cross paths two or three times a year, so it’s probably not that big a deal. 

Maybe.

Merlin changes the subject and they make plans to meet for dinner before saying, “ _Au revoir, Guillaume_ ,” and ending the call.

He takes the paper and adds Arthur’s number into his mobile. He resolves not to text him when Impact de Montréal is playing Chicago Fire, but on the off chance that he completely loses all sense of sanity and decides to contact Arthur, he has it saved.

***

**July 2012**

**Game #19 –** **Chicago**

**_Arthur_ **

Here’s the thing. Arthur doesn’t ever have to chase after anyone. Usually people come up to him. Although now that he’s becoming more recognizable, at least in Chicago, he has to be more careful about the men he takes to bed. It’s not as though he doesn’t want to come out, that part doesn’t really bother him, but he wants to be known for his game, his skill, not his personal life. 

So when he finds out that Merlin’s team has been in Chicago for two days already and he hasn’t heard from him, he gets a little annoyed. He knows – _knows_ – that their last encounter was on his list of top sexual experiences and based on what little he knows about Merlin, surely it was one of the best of his life as well. So then why the fuck hasn’t he called or texted?

Arthur has too much pride to reach out to him. He could easily find out what hotel he’s staying at and show up at the bar, but that might make him look like a stalker. And then if any of the Impact players saw him, how would that look? No, it’s better that he stays at his own apartment and stew about it.

The game is tomorrow afternoon. The Montreal Impact flew in yesterday morning after playing Orlando. Arthur watched that game; their goalkeeper has some skills. He had to Google him: Leonardo Lavigne. There were some images of him and Merlin practicing, promo photos for the team since it’s their first year as part of the MLS. He wonders if he should study Leon to see if he has a particular weakness, but he isn’t sure he’d know what to look for. That’s part of what makes a good coach, and Arthur doesn’t think he’d ever be able to be a good coach.

When his phone vibrates, he doesn’t think much of it and grabs it absentmindedly to see who it is. The only people who ever text him are his sister, and then Gwaine and Lance from the team. 

> **Unknown:** _Rm 1332 @ Hilton Chicago_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Who, pray tell, is this?_

He doesn’t wait for an answer because he knows.

***

Merlin didn’t specify a time in his text, which Arthur doesn’t even think about until he’s knocking on Merlin’s hotel room door an hour later. It’s pretty close to dinnertime, so maybe the rest of the team is gone and Merlin’s stayed back. Hopefully. That way no one will see him. While not everyone on his team may recognize Montreal’s goalkeeper coach, everyone on Merlin’s team will definitely recognize Chicago’s newest star player.

The hotel door opens and Merlin stands on the other side. He looks slightly annoyed. His mouth is a little pouty, one hand is on his hip, but he looks really good, all solid and clearly male. Arthur is ready for this.

“Come on.” Merlin steps out of the way and quickly shuts the door behind Arthur. 

“This is a nice hotel. I’ve never been here before.”

“It’s better than where we stayed in Orlando. I’m surprised you were free to come right over. Thought you might have had a date with that redhead from the cover of _People_.”

“You get _People_ in Canada?”

“Saw it at the airport,” Merlin replies.

“Oh. She was a date to a charity event. Sophia. Not naturally red.”

“I’m sure you’d know.”

Arthur smirks. “Jealous?”

“Huh? Oh, no. I figured you had a busy social life is all.” Merlin says it casually as though he actually _isn’t_ jealous, which Arthur finds fascinating and infuriating. He’s not like anyone else he’s ever been with.

“Actually, I tend not to go out the night before a game so I can get plenty of sleep and not wake up hungover.”

“Clever. It was nice of you to get dressed up for me.”

“I could say the same for you.” They’re both wearing athletic clothes, but Merlin has on a zip-up Nike hoodie as well. “It’ll be easier to get you naked. Do coaches always get their own rooms at away games?”

“Sometimes, depends on city and hotel, but one of our assistant coaches caught strep throat from his kids and missed the Orlando game. He flies into O’Hare tomorrow. Then day after we’re off to LA.”

“Lucky you. For tonight at least.”

“Lucky me,” Merlin agrees. “Enough talking. I didn’t text you to have a conversation.”

Arthur laughs and pulls off his shirt. “Last time was fun, but I’m ready to be inside your ass.”

“Jesus, Arthur,” Merlin groans.

Something about the way he says _Arthur_ heats his body. He closes the gap between them and everything is hot and needy and fast. Arthur stops long enough to finish getting his clothes off and look around the room. There’s a desk – just the right height to drape Merlin over.

“Perfect,” he says, and grabs Merlin’s hips.

***

Arthur flops backwards on Merlin’s bed to catch his breath. He wonders if he’s pulled a muscle because one of his thighs feels a little tight. He definitely cannot cite a sex injury as reason for not having a good game tomorrow, so hopefully it’ll be okay.

“How’re you so good at this?” Arthur muses. “Lots of practice?”

Merlin drops onto the bed next to him and wipes the sweat off his brow. “I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did a little.”

Arthur concedes. “Yeah, so, you hook up with a lot of guys?”

“Not really. Had a boyfriend for six years and then we broke up a little over a year ago and since then it hasn’t been interesting. A couple guys. Not many. Do you hook up in every city you go to?”

“No, not really. Depends on the city, I guess. I usually never see the same men multiple times, that’s for sure.”

“Should I be flattered?” Merlin asks, his tone a little dry.

Arthur turns on his side and leans over Merlin. He presses their mouths together. He cannot get enough of this guy’s mouth. Merlin seems a little tentative, but then he reaches up and curls a hand behind Arthur’s neck. 

“You should be flattered,” Arthur says, pulling back. “But not because of me.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows as though asking a question.

“I mean, you should be flattered because you’re _really_ good at everything we do.”

“Our bodies work together,” Merlin admits, grumbling a bit.

“You sound like it hurts you to say so.”

“It does. It pains me.”

Arthur laughs and then kisses him again.

***

Before they risk falling asleep together, Merlin shows Arthur the door. He doesn’t kiss him goodbye and closes the door behind him. As Arthur makes his way to the elevator, he wonders if this is how all his one-night stands feel when he shows them out. He feels a little dirty and a little used. 

Chicago Hotel is like a labyrinth trying to get to the elevators. There’s laughter coming down the corridor and he hears the phrase “yellow card” so he ducks out of the way and goes in search of the stairwell. He figures if he goes down a couple of flights and catches the elevator on a different floor he won’t run into any soccer players.

What a nightmare. Too bad Merlin’s ass kind of makes it worth it.

The game the next day goes well, but Chicago loses 4-2. Arthur scored both of Chicago’s goals, but Lance hurt his knee and was taken out of the game at the very beginning of the second half. He and Lance were always the dream pair out on the field and Arthur never worked as hard with the other players so his whole game was totally off. This is exactly why he’s not making bigger money – the coaches know he chokes when things don’t go his way.

In the locker room, Arthur showers and changes into regular clothes. He opens his phone and pulls up Merlin’s text. He really wants to ask him to come over, but he doesn’t want to look needy. This is supposed to be a casual thing – and really that’s all he wants, but he knows Merlin is in town for another night and how can they be within ten miles of one another and not try to hook up again?

Three little dots appear on the screen. Oh my god, Arthur realizes, Merlin is texting him _right now_. The dots disappear and then reappear and in the thirty seconds it takes for the message to go through Arthur doesn’t breathe.

> **Merlin:** _You should celebrate my win with me._
> 
> **Arthur:** _What did you have in mind?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _That is entirely up to you. I don’t have a single room anymore._
> 
> **Arthur:** _1210 South Indiana Avenue. Text me when you get there & I’ll come down to let you in_

“You look really intense right now,” Gwaine says, sitting down on the bench next to Arthur.

He quickly turns the screen of his phone off and pockets it. “It’s nothing. I’m pissed about the game.”

“Same.”

“We’re goin’ out tonight to Breezeway.”

Breezeway is a bar known for its beautiful patrons. There’s a security guy outside who actually turns people away if they’re not hot enough. Arthur has never failed to get lucky there when he’s gone with Lance and Gwaine.

“I’ve got other plans,” Arthur says.

Gwaine snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“No, really,” Arthur insists. “Next time, though.”

“You get a regular side piece now?”

“Not like that. Sort of?”

“That supermodel? The redhead?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, she was kind of vacant.”

Gwaine scrunches up his face. “What’s that mean?”

“I couldn’t have a conversation with her. There was nothing up here.” He waves a head around his forehead. 

“If you’re trying to have a conversation, you’re doing it wrong,” Gwaine laughs.

Maybe he’s right. Merlin and Arthur certainly don’t have conversations and they’re clearly doing something right since Arthur keeps going back for more.

***

When Arthur gets Merlin’s text, he takes the elevator downstairs and walks through the lobby to the main entrance. He sees Merlin waiting on the sidewalk, thumbing through his phone. He’s wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt and looks delicious.

“Glad you find it okay,” Arthur says.

Merlin looks up and immediately rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Come on, talk in the elevator.”

Merlin follows him inside and once they’re alone going upstairs, Arthur takes off the baseball cap and unzips his hoodie.

“There’s this guy that sometimes parks himself outside my apartment building,” Arthur explains. “There was a picture on some blog and it made the rounds of me and Elena Fairchild when she was leaving the building. We weren’t even together, just walking out at the same time.”

“I have no idea who that is. What floor do you even live on? This is ridiculous.”

“Fifty-second.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again.

“You don’t know who Elena Fairchild is? She’s an actress. She has a TV show about a group of friends in Chicago. It’s like 2012’s version of _Friends_.”

Merlin shrugs. “I don’t watch a lot of television. I’ve never seen _Friends_.”

“Unbelievable. It’s like you’re an alien.”

The elevator doors open and Arthur walks down the corridor to his apartment. He opens it with a flick of his phone. He waits for Merlin to look impressed, but he only looks rather bored. Interesting.

Arthur motions for Merlin to go in first and he watches his reaction as Merlin takes in the space and looks around. It’s all open, with a large white and gray kitchen, an L-shaped leather sofa, and an eight-seat dining table. There’s artwork on the walls, all abstract in muted colors, and a flat-screen television that has all the wiring inside the walls. Nothing is out of place and there’s not a single spec of dirt or dust.

“You have a beautiful view of the city,” Merlin admits. He stops by the large glass windows that look out onto the rest of Chicago. Arthur stands next to him.

“It’s my favorite part of this place. You like the rest of it?”

Merlin doesn’t bother to turn around. “Honestly? It doesn’t feel like you. This is so fancy.”

“I’m fancy. I grew up in a very posh neighborhood in Wales before moving here.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I think you can have nice things, posh even, without being over the top. This place exists for you to impress people. You don’t have to impress me.”

Arthur feels as though he’s been slapped. It stings.

“Oh _merde_ , I completely ruined the mood, didn’t I?” Merlin says with a wince. “I didn’t mean to. But you’re so cocky all the time when you talk to me and really, I don’t think that’s genuine either. It’s for show like this apartment.”

“All right, if you know me so well after only having sex a few times, then when am I genuine if it’s not where I live and not when I talk?”

Merlin turns and faces Arthur. “When you’re on the field. When you’re playing. Maybe when you’re kissing me. What part of this apartment is something you really like?”

Arthur feels frozen in place. It’s like Merlin has gutted him open and is staring at his insides. “If you’re so fucking clever, you tell me.”

“And if I find whatever your interior designer didn’t buy for you, what do I get?”

“Whatever you want.”

A sly grin tugs at the corners of Merlin’s mouth. “You really want to play that game with me?”

“Absolutely.”

Merlin takes a step back and walks around the living room and dining room, looking at the built-in bookshelves and the paintings on the wall. He stops at the kitchen island and picks up a book.

“This,” he says. “This is an old book. The cover is cloth.” He sets it back down and then points at a framed photograph by the front door. “And that. It looks like it might be artistic, but it’s not, is it?”

Arthur swallows. “My sister took that photo for me,” he admits. “It’s from when we were little. That tree was in our back garden and our mum put that swing up. The branches were quite strong. She’d swing us when we were babies and couldn’t fall asleep. She said sometimes it would be midnight and she’d be out there, swinging.”

“That’s beautiful,” Merlin says, his voice soft. “How old were you when she died?”

“Twelve.”

“I’m so sorry. Is that book hers too?”

“Yes. My father got rid of all her things. He forgot about the swing, though. My sister went back to England a couple years ago to visit some old friends and she stopped by our old house. Took that photo. The book was in my room when he started throwing everything out. I kept it because it was her favorite. I—” Arthur stops. He’s already said way too much. He’s not here to bare his soul to someone he really just wants to fuck.

“Do you read it?” Merlin has crossed back to the kitchen and picks up the book. He holds it carefully as though he knows its value. 

“I read it once a year.”

Merlin sets the book down and then sits on one of the bar stools at the island. “This is the side of you that you should let other people see. This side is much more interesting. The one with memories of your mum and _How to Train Your Dragon_ queued in your DVD player.”

“I don’t need anyone to see this side of me.”

“Why? Isn’t it lonely being around a bunch of people who have no idea who you are?”

“Who says they don’t know who I am?”

Merlin shrugs. “Because you try to portray yourself as this star lothario footballer who is rather dumb. All the girls you’re photographed with, do you ever have a conversation with any of them?”

“If I need to have a conversation with them, then I’m doing it wrong,” Arthur echoes what Gwaine said earlier.

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Obviously I don’t mind a good one-night stand here and there seeing as I’m single. But it gets lonely after a while, doesn’t it?”

Arthur wants to put all his insides back together and forget this conversation ever happened. This is not why he invited Merlin over here tonight. What is even happening right now?

“Sorry, I’ve ruined the mood,” Merlin says. “I can go.”

“No,” Arthur replies, surprising himself. “I have some wine. Let’s get drunk instead.”

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“So? Sleep on the plane or the bus. Whatever you use to get around.”

Merlin sighs but agrees.

Arthur takes the wine out of the wine rack and gets two stemless wine glasses. He wonders if Merlin thinks his glasses are as pretentious as the rest of the house.

“For the record,” Merlin says in between sips, “I don’t think you’re a dumb lothario. I think you hide the best parts of yourself, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“I’m sure most people think I’m a dumb jock.”

“Probably,” Merlin agrees. They talk about the game, about the MLS, and soccer in general. Arthur refills their wine more before Merlin says, “I’m ready to cash-in my reward.”

“All right.” Arthur’s eyes drag down Merlin’s body. The mood was killed earlier, but he doesn’t think it’ll take much to rejuvenate him. “But if you say you want to cuddle, that’s my hard limit.”

Merlin smirks. “I’d never dream of asking you to do such a thing. I’m a little sore after last night, so I think you should open me up softly, with your mouth, and then we’ll see if I can take you again.”

The blood rushes between his ears and Arthur downs the rest of his wine. “Yep. I can do that.” He pulls at the front of Merlin’s shirt. “First, come here.” And then he kisses his mouth, his neck, and then drops to his knees and undoes Merlin’s belt. “Turn around and lean over the counter,” he says breathily.

Merlin does just that.

***

**September 2012**

**Game #27 –** **Chicago**

**_Merlin_ **

They’re only in town for the day. The game is at 1pm and there’s another game day after tomorrow so they’re leaving Chicago to go straight to Columbus. Merlin sends Arthur a text early that morning. They’re taking a bus to Chicago and he’s seated near the front, but no one is next to him.

> **Merlin:** _We get into town only a couple hours before the game and then we leave afterwards. No hotel._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Bullshit. I had plans for you._
> 
> **Merlin:** _Sorry._
> 
> **Merlin:** _Wait, what sorts of plans? That’s awfully presumptuous of you to think I’d be able to even see you during this trip._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Hopeful, not presumptuous. It’s been almost 8 full weeks & believe me no one I’ve brought home can take it as well as you_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I want to say I’m flattered but you make me sound like a salope._
> 
> **Arthur:** _???_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Sorry. Slut._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Dirty slut_.

“Did someone just call you a dirty slut?”

Merlin jumps and drops his phone. “Jesus, Leon!”

Leon laughs. He bends down between the seats and grabs Merlin’s phone and hands it back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. _Quoi de neuf?_ ”

Leon sobers almost immediately. “Not sure. Feeling anxious. I didn’t do so well the last game.”

“You did fine. They only scored on you twice.”

“Right, but our defense was on point, yeah? So percentage-wise of shots blocked versus shots taken was kinda high.”

“You have to get out of your head,” Merlin says. “You worry too much. How’s everything with your girlfriend?”

Leon shrugs. “We broke up. I don’t want to talk about it. How’s everything with your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? What? No,” sputters Merlin. “I don’t think so.” He clears his throat. 

“Are you protesting because you don’t have a boyfriend or because you’re not gay?”

“I – well.” Merlin considers this for a moment. “The boyfriend part. I definitely do not have a boyfriend. The other part, no one here really knows. How’d you figure it out?”

“Your phone. Texting about ‘dirty sluts’ with a guy. And you’ve never shown any interest in women whenever they’re brought up. I didn’t think anything about it, really, until now.”

“Fair enough.” Merlin takes a deep breath. “Look—”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

Leon lowers his voice. “But seriously, who’re you texting?”

Merlin looks at his phone. The screen is blank, but he wonders if Arthur is on the other side of those texts, waiting for a response. He’s probably annoyed he won’t get laid tonight. Honestly, Merlin is too.

“This guy,” Merlin says. “We’ve hooked up a couple of times.”

“Is it serious?”

Merlin laughs. “Not at all. He travels for his job, too, so we’re not in the same city that often. It’s fun, that’s all.”

Leon nods. “That’s a shame, though.”

“Why? I had a serious boyfriend for six years and all it got me was an apartment I now have to pay for completely on my own and a bunch of furniture I don’t even like.”

“Having a girlfriend was nice. I liked coming home to someone. She couldn’t handle me being away so much and never understood why I couldn’t find another job. I have a degree, you know. I went to Georgetown.”

“Did you really?”

Leon shrugs. “Yeah. I majored in psychology. I thought I might go to grad school, but everyone kept telling me I was good at soccer.”

“You didn’t know you were good? People had to tell you?”

Leon shrugs again.

“How’ve I known you this long and didn’t know you went to school?”

“We only talk about soccer.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, my girlfriend used to want me to quit and do something with my degree. She didn’t like it when I played for the other club, and she definitely hates Impact even more.”

“I’m sorry. That’s awful. When did you break up?”

“About a month ago. It’s okay.”

“I could see it in your game. We have to get you back to the way you used to be. Do you like the team?”

“I guess. They’re all nice. I don’t fit in with a lot of them. The younger guys like to go out and party and that’s not my scene. The older guys are all married and that’s not my scene either.”

“I understand.”

“Anyway, didn’t mean to interrupt your texting date.”

“Why’d you come up here?” Merlin asks.

“Was sitting by myself.”

“You can stay,” Merlin says. “Just don’t read my messages.”

Leon laughs. “No way. Not after what I saw!” He pulls out his own phone and opens his Facebook app. 

Merlin unlocks his home screen and opens up the new texts from Arthur.

> **Arthur:** _Don’t tell me calling you a dirty slut scared you off. I thought you had more willpower than that_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I had to handle some team business. Calm down. I don’t think of myself as a dirty slut. If anyone is dirty, it’s you. You love it all, the dirtier the better._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Yes_
> 
> **Arthur:** _There’s so much filth we haven’t done yet. I could make a list of things I want to do to you that would make you blush_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I doubt you have that much imagination_.

“So where’d you meet your non-boyfriend?”

Merlin turns the screen of his phone off again. “In a bar,” he answers truthfully. “In Montréal. He tried to pick me up and I wasn’t interested, but he wore me down, I guess.”

“Is he nice?”

“Nice,” Merlin repeats, “that’s an interesting word. He’s nice to me, but that’s not the first adjective I would use to describe him.”

“Okay, then what’s he like?”

Merlin thinks for a moment. “He’s cocky and beautiful, but he can be funny when he wants to be. I think he has a lot of layers that I’m only now beginning to find out about.”

“Sounds like you like him.”

“No,” says Merlin, “not like that. In another life we would possibly be friends. I doubt he’ll ever want to settle down with a boyfriend. He’s not out either.”

“Neither are you.”

“No, no,” Merlin corrects. “I’m out. All my family and friends know. The other coaches know, the owners. I’m not hiding it from the players, but I’m not broadcasting it either. Big difference. This guy isn’t out and I don’t think he wants to be either.”

“So you could never be together?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No, it’s a lot of fun now, but one day it’ll run its course. I imagine I’ll find someone to date and have to tell him the bad news. I doubt it’ll go the other way around.”

He opens his phone again.

> **Arthur:** _#1 tie your hands to my headboard and blindfold you while I do whatever I want with you_
> 
> **Arthur:** _#2 put yourself on display for me so I can watch you make yourself come_
> 
> **Arthur:** _#3 have you wear a buttplug through an entire game when our teams play together. I want to know its in you while I score against your goalie_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I can’t do this right now; I’m sitting next to one of my players. Be nice or I’ll have to turn my phone off._
> 
> **Arthur:** _You don’t want me to be nice_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Goodbye, Arthur._

Merlin shoves his phone in his pocket and looks out the bus window. It’s still another hour to Chicago. He’ll see Arthur at the game; they won’t be able to talk or pretend they know each other, but he’ll at least see him. Merlin wishes the schedule allowed for even an hour where he could escape and see Arthur. He honestly hasn’t had an orgasm since their last encounter that didn’t come from his own hand. He wouldn’t mind a bit of a human touch.

He crosses his arms and closes his eyes. Maybe he can at least try to take a nap before they get to the field and have to play.

***

The game gets completely rained out. Everyone tries to wait it out, but the thunder and lightning are unrelenting and the rain does not stop. It’s too heavy to see through, let alone play in. They can get a head start on getting to Columbus, except the bus won’t start.

Merlin asks one of the two drivers when they think it’ll get fixed. When he says a minimum of two hours, something snaps inside Merlin and he pulls out his phone and orders an Uber.

“Don’t let them leave without me,” Merlin tells Leon. “And if they fix it sooner, call me. Don’t text.”

Leon smirks. “Going to get laid?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have fun.”

When the Uber pulls into the parking lot, Merlin jumps out of the bus and runs over to it. He already made his excuses to the other coaches, telling them he was going to grab coffee with a friend who lived in the city instead of sitting in the bus for two hours waiting for whatever they’re waiting on. No one even questions it.

The Uber goes to South Indiana Avenue and stops in front of Arthur’s building. Merlin dials Arthur’s number.

“Are you calling me on purpose?”

“Is that how you answer a phone?”

“What’s up, Merlin?”

“ _T’exaspères me_ _._ ”

“You know what you should do? You should talk dirty to me in French. I won’t know what the fuck you’re saying, but it’ll be hot—”

“Are you home?” Merlin interrupts.

“Yes. For another few minutes anyway. Why? I thought you were on the way to Columbus?”

“The bus won’t start.”

“And you want me to rescue you? Sorry, but I can’t—”

“You are quite literally the most infuriating person I’ve ever met. I’m in front of your apartment. I have an hour. Maybe an hour and ten minutes.”

“You’re downstairs?”

“In an Uber, yes. The poor driver is waiting on me to get out.”

“Hold on. I’m coming down.”

The line goes dead and Merlin pockets his iPhone. He watches the glass doors and when he sees a familiar baseball cap, he thanks the driver and jumps out into the rain. They don’t speak until they’re in the elevator going up to the fifty-second floor.

“You’re dressed to go out,” Merlin observes.

“I told them I’d be late.”

“I should’ve called before I left.”

“It’s fine.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice strained, “shut up. It’s fine.” The elevator opens and Arthur gets out.

“Okay, but—”

Arthur stops in front of his door and turns around. “This is the last time we’ll be in the same city until preseason next year. That’s probably six months. So shut up because we’re wasting valuable time.”

Merlin nods. “Right. Yes, of course.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and opens the door to his apartment. Merlin walks in first and he hears the door click shut and arms immediately circle his waist. Arthur’s mouth is on the side of his neck and Merlin turns so he can kiss him. But Arthur is slow. He cups Merlin’s face in his hands and brings their mouths together slowly. Merlin allows himself to revel in it, the lazy way Arthur is kissing him, languid and smooth, but he ends up pulling away.

“We don’t have time for you to suddenly decide you’re sweet,” Merlin says.

Arthur’s grin is positively wicked. “I’m not trying to be sweet.”

“I get it. Torture me until I have to leave, unfinished or else my team will leave me in Chicago and I’ll have to hitchhike to Columbus.”

“Maybe I just want you in Chicago,” Arthur says with a shrug.

“Why on earth would you want me in Chicago?”

“So I can have more than a couple hours with you. We need a day. Imagine what we could do if we had twenty-four hours.”

Merlin shakes his head. “Keep dreaming. You have an hour and you’re wasting precious time.”

“Fine. Get undressed.”

Merlin salutes. “Yes, sir.”

***

He makes it back to the bus with less than five minutes to spare. He sits back in his seat and pushes his wet hair away from his face. The team all looks to be back and ready to leave. Leon is somewhere behind him, sitting with another teammate. 

Merlin closes his eyes. He replays everything in his head, the way Arthur put a hand on his back and pushed him into the mattress. The way he leaned over him and kissed the back of his neck. The way he stroked him unhurriedly as though wanting to savor something. The noises they both made when they came, one right after the other.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t look at it right away. The bus leaves the parking lot and starts the journey towards Columbus. Merlin dozes off and on for at least an hour, maybe two, but when his phone goes off a second time, he pulls it out of his jeans and looks at it.

> **Arthur:** _Seriously the best sex I’ve ever had. How are you so good at making me come?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Preseason is a long way away. Six months. You should probably send me some pics so I can make it through_.

Merlin sniggers and rolls his eyes. He is absolutely not taking dirty pictures and sending them to Arthur. Absolutely not. Although waiting six months to see him again is disappointing. Each of their encounters is better than the last. 

He definitely needs to start dating. Going months in between sex isn’t ideal, but what really makes it worse is that Arthur isn’t someone he wants to date, so it’s as though he’s desperate for someone he doesn’t even fancy all that much. 

Well – that’s not entirely true. Merlin does like Arthur and in a different life they’d be friends, possibly. But at the end of the day, Arthur lives in Chicago and Merlin lives in Montréal, so even having more regular hookups isn’t a possibility.

That’s it, Merlin resolves, after Columbus when they’re back at home, he’ll put himself back out there in the dating game and see what happens.

He ignores Arthur’s last texts.

***

**December 2012**

**Christmas –** **Vermont**

**_Arthur_ **

Morgana looks out the floor-to-ceiling window. Nothing but gorgeous snow. Arthur hands her a cup of coffee with cream and nutmeg. His own coffee has only a hint of cream. The suite is warm and they already put the fire on; they always try to keep it going all day.

“Are you staying through the new year?” Morgana asks.

“The reservation is until January second, but” – Arthur shrugs – “I don’t know. If you weren’t leaving early I’d probably stay.”

“I told my boyfriend—”

“I know, I know,” says Arthur. “I don’t blame you.”

“It was a lovely Christmas, though.” Morgana pauses. “Did you ever hear from Dad?”

“He texted me a picture of him and Georgina—”

“Michelle.”

“No. Michelle broke up with him over the summer.”

Morgana shakes her head. “No way, are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Either way, he texted me a picture of him and whoever at a beach in Spain or France or something.”

Morgana rolls her eyes. “He told me once if we gave him grandkids he’d come visit every Christmas.”

“Yeah, right,” Arthur scoffs.

“Anyway, I think I’m leaving tomorrow. You’ll have several days alone. Maybe you can pick up a cute snow bunny. I’m sure having me here ruins your game.”

“I love having you here.”

“You’re a liar but I appreciate the sentiment. I was thinking about going to Canada later.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been.”

Arthur gives his sister a blank look. “I guess I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up.”

“Because we’re here? At Pass Mountain? No? Arthur, learn some basic geography, we’re less than a hundred miles from the Canadian border. I could add another country to my list of countries I’ve traveled to.”

“Canada’s only a hundred miles away?” Arthur says. “How far is Montreal from here?”

“I’m not sure. It’s pretty close to America, I think. Maybe a couple hours’ drive.”

“Holy shit.”

“Why?” Morgana gives him a quizzical look. “You know a girl in Montreal?”

“Something like that,” Arthur admits. “When did you say you were going back to San Francisco?”

“Tomorrow…”

“I need to make a phone call.”

“I’m going to ski.” Morgana takes a final sip of her coffee and places the empty cup on the kitchen counter on her way down the hall to the bedroom.

Arthur looks around the suite. It’s two bedrooms, very modern, with plush furniture and fine finishes. He wonders if Merlin will think this place is as obnoxious as he found his apartment.

He pulls out his phone and dials Merlin’s number. They haven’t communicated at all since Merlin showed up in the rain. The last texts he sent went unanswered, which Arthur has been sad about for the last few months. He really wanted some X-rated photos of Merlin.

“Happy Boxing Day.”

“I – what? How is that any way to answer a phone?”

“It’s Boxing Day,” Merlin says. 

“What the hell is Boxing Day?”

“You were born in England, you know what Boxing Day is.”

“Yeah, but I’m American now and we don’t do this Boxing Day.”

“Merry Christmas, then,” Merlin amends. 

“How was your holiday?”

“It was fine. Er, hold on a second.” 

He hears Merlin speak to someone in French, then some ruffling, and then Merlin is back on the line. 

“Sorry, I had to step into another room.”

“Right, of course. Do you have family over?”

Merlin doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s fine. _Quoi de neuf_?”

“Did you know Pass Mountain is only two hours from Montreal?”

“ _Montréal_ ,” Merlin says.

“What?”

“You say it wrong. Listen. Montréal. Mow-ray-al. Not Mawn-tray-al.”

“You don’t say the T?”

“It’s French. No.”

“Okay, I can’t care about this right now,” Arthur says. “Let’s go back to the beginning. Did you know Pass Mountain is only two hours from your city?”

“What’s a Pass Mountain?”

“The ski resort I’m staying in. In Vermont.”

“Oh, right. I think you mentioned that to me once.”

“My sister and I come here every Christmas. I didn’t realize it was so close until she said something.”

“I’m assuming you’re not calling to simply pass along this information?”

“Are you trying to be an asshole here?”

“No, but hearing you get so riled up is very enjoyable for me.”

Arthur can almost hear the smirk in Merlin’s voice. “I think we should hook up. This is the closest we’ll ever be outside of the playing season.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? I’ve never heard that word in my life.”

“And it shows.”

“You are so feisty sometimes.”

He hears Merlin sigh. “I can’t invite you here, I have a houseguest.”

“Then come to Vermont. Two hour drive.”

“I can’t.”

Arthur groans. “Give me a good reason. I don’t care about your houseguest. You can leave, stay here an hour, and then go home.”

“I thought last time we established an hour wasn’t long enough?”

“Okay, so stay for three hours and then go home.”

Merlin laughs, but Arthur can hear the No in it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Maybe when I’m in Chicago next.”

“Or when I’m in Mawn-tree-al?”

Merlin is quiet.

Arthur sighs. “Fine. But I’m going to text you the info of the lodge where I’m staying. I’m here until after the new year. Plenty of time to come down. I won’t even kick you out after we’re done. A two-hour drive deserves a nap as a reward.”

“I thought the orgasm would be my reward?”

“I hope you come.” Arthur laughs to himself. “Well, I hope you come to Vermont so you can, you know, _come_.”

“You’re so witty.”

“I try.” 

The line is quiet and Arthur has to bite his tongue to keep from asking Merlin to drive down again. It’s not healthy to beg.

“Merry Christmas, Merlin,” Arthur says again.

“ _Joyeux Noel_ , Arthur.”

***

After Morgana leaves, Arthur is all alone. It’s in his contract with the club that he’s not allowed to play any contact sports or any physical activities that could result in injury, like skiing. Which is fine, because he understands he’s not of any value to the club if he can’t play soccer, and the lodge is still enjoyable even without skiing. A lot of the other players still ski or snowboard or skateboard or free climb, but Arthur isn’t interested in taking any chances.

He texts Merlin all the info for the lodge but it goes unanswered. The entirety of the next day, Arthur expects a knock at his door and for Merlin to be on the other side. He doesn’t come. He doesn’t show up the next day either. Arthur is annoyed. He was _certain_ that Merlin would have shown up, but when day four comes and goes, he finally has to come to terms that he’s going to have to ring in the new year by himself.

It’s really early, not even dinnertime, when Arthur goes to the lodge bar. He sits at the end of the counter and orders a long island ice tea. He watches as the space slowly fills up. He pulls out his phone and texts Merlin a picture of his drink.

> **Arthur:** _You could be here drinking with me & getting laid_

He orders some fries to pick at and keeps the drinks coming. His arms and legs start to feel warm and his brain is already a little fuzzy. A girl slides up next to him and giggles slightly as she introduces herself. Arthur immediately forgets her name, but she has on a low-cut shirt and crosses her arms to show off her cleavage and Arthur thinks, _why not?_

***

It’s almost eight when the elevator doors open and Arthur walks out. The girl is glued to his side and he has an arm around her waist. He’s pretty sure if he lets go she’ll fall right over. The key to her room is in his pocket. Luckily she’s on the same floor as him, only a few doors down. He turns the corner and in front of his own hotel room is—

“Merlin, what the fuck?”

Merlin whirls around and Arthur can see his body immediately tense. His eyes go directly to the blonde and Arthur wants to scream.

“Right,” Merlin says and turns to go down the hallway towards the stairwell.

“No, no, no,” Arthur yells. “Wait.” 

Merlin stops and turns around. The look on his face is indecipherable. 

“You’re really cute,” the girl says and she sways on her feet.

“This is absolutely not what it looks like.”

“I can’t have this conversation in front of your latest conquest.”

The girl giggles. “That’s a funny word.”

“ _C'est quoi ton problème, connard?_ ”

Arthur winces. He has no idea what Merlin just said, but he’s positive it was nothing good.

“She’s plastered,” Arthur says.

“Obviously.”

“I’m taking her to her room so she can pass out, that’s it. Let me do that and then we’ll talk.”

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“Five minutes.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” the girl says.

“Five minutes,” Arthur says again and fumbles with the door key to the other hotel room. He deposits the blonde in the bathroom in front of the toilet. There’s makeup supplies all over the bathroom counter and Arthur searches through the mess until he finds a hair tie. He pulls her hair back the best he can so at least she won’t throw up in it. He gets a glass from the kitchenette and fills it with water and sets it down next to her.

He takes the deepest breath of his life and leaves the room. Merlin is still in the hall, but the expression on his face is rather wrecked and Arthur feels guilt smash into his stomach.

“Okay, come on,” he says, and opens the door to his own room.

Merlin follows him inside, but keeps his distance. He doesn’t say a word. They stand in the middle of the living space, ten feet apart, but at least Merlin is looking at him.

“I’m going to tell you what happened, but then you’re either going to decide to believe me and we’re going to do what you came here to do, or you’re going to leave. I’m not going to argue with you over this.”

Merlin opens his hands as though asking Arthur to continue.

“First of all, you ignored my texts for four days and never told me you were coming. I went to the bar to maybe find someone to bring up here and I thought it was going to be that girl, but honestly, I don’t remember her name and she got trashed. I want the people I sleep with to remember it the next day. Also, getting that drunk isn’t attractive. She told me her room was on my floor so I brought her back up so she wouldn’t spew all over the bar.”

Merlin softens a little bit.

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to find someone to hook up with. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m here alone. My sister left early and my dad never showed up and my friends from the team are with their own families.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Merlin says.

“Let’s be real here, when I called you, you totally had someone in your bed, didn’t you? Your ‘houseguest.’”

Merlin’s cheeks flush. “No. We weren’t in bed. But it was another man, yes.”

“Why do you look guilty? We aren’t in a relationship. We have good sex, let’s call a spade a spade, okay?”

“Right.” Merlin clears his throat.

“But I’m kind of glad you’re here. I thought I was going to have to spend New Year’s Eve alone.”

“Glad I can be the remedy to your loneliness problem.”

“Yikes. You make it sound worse than it is. Lonely right now, yes, but last few months haven’t been bad.”

“How so?”

“Couple guys from the team actually are better friends than I first realized. We’ve hung out a lot. It’s been pretty nice actually. Anyway.” Arthur clears his throat. “All right, so things feel really weird. And I’m at least four drinks ahead of you. So I say, let’s get you some shots and then when you’ve loosened up, we can try this again.”

“I thought you said getting trashed wasn’t attractive?”

“The way that girl was? Not attractive. I have a feeling when you have some alcohol you’ll be twice as much fun as normal. Did you bring pajamas?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Excellent.”

Merlin rolls his eyes.

Arthur laughs. “Come on.”

***

Arthur orders a bunch of shots and makes Merlin catch up with him. He points out that he has to drive home and Arthur ignores him and buys him tequila. Arthur’s buzz had worn off pretty well when he’d gone upstairs, but now he’s back to be pleasantly drunk.

“Okay, okay,” Merlin says. He leans closer to Arthur, lessening the gap between them. “That first night in Montréal—”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“The way you say Montreal. Say it in French.”

“ _Montréal_.”

“Say something else in French.” Arthur tugs Merlin’s bar stool closer until Merlin’s sitting close, Arthur’s knees on either side of Merlin’s.

“What do you want me to say?”

“All the dirty things you want to do tonight.”

Merlin’s eyes seem to search for something in Arthur’s face and they settle on his mouth before looking back up and meeting his eyes. “All right,” he says. “ _Je veux t'embrasser... J’ai envie de toi… Je veux que tu me baises_..” Merlin grins and blinks slowly. “ _Mange-moi_.”

Arthur doesn’t know why the French does it for him, but he feels himself harden. When Merlin speaks in French, he sounds breathy and sexy. 

“What’d you say?” he asks.

“You should learn French,” Merlin replies. “ _Je veux passer la nuit avec toi… et ne plus jamais te revoir avec une autre fille. Cela m'a brisé le cœur_.”

“Translate one of the things for me.”

Merlin sighs. “Fine. _Je veux que tu me baises_. It means, _I want you to fuck me_.”

Arthur nods. “Oh yeah, yes, please.”

Merlin laughs. “You’re so predictable.” He leans forward even more. “Okay, so back to that first night in _Montréal_ after the game. Why’d you pick me?”

Arthur furrows his eyebrows together. “Pick you?”

“There was a bar full of beautiful people, but you asked me to come home with you.”

Arthur replays what Merlin just said a couple times in his head before saying, “But I did go home with someone beautiful.” Merlin turns his head, as though embarrassed. Arthur reaches out and cups a hand against Merlin’s cheek and nudges him not to turn away. “You really have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you? Watching you come is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d watch you do it every day if I could.”

Merlin seems speechless and Arthur realizes he’s said entirely too much. He didn’t mean to imply anything. He wasn’t lying about anything, but he knows he could have reigned it in a little better.

“Can we go upstairs?” Merlin asks.

Arthur nods. “Yes. Right now, let’s go.”

***

For the first time, they have sex facing one another. Arthur loves it, he loves hovering over Merlin, holding his leg up, Merlin’s calf against his cheek and kissing the inside of his knee, watching Merlin come over his own stomach.

After, Arthur helps clean him up and they’re quiet as they both settle down to sleep. Arthur isn’t a cuddler, but he reaches out and drapes an arm over Merlin’s middle as though keeping him in place. He wakes up when Merlin kisses him and says, “It’s midnight, Happy New Year.” They rub together, a slow finish.

The next time he wakes up, it’s morning; the other side of the bed is empty and already cold. Arthur wants to scream. He doesn’t get up to look for Merlin because he knows he’s already gone. At least he got this fix and hopefully they’ll have a game together in the preseason.

***

**March 2013**

**Preseason –** **Montréal**

**_Merlin_ **

> **Merlin:** _137 Rue Saint Pierre_

He looks at his phone, turns off both the ringer and the vibration, and puts it face-down on his desk. He doesn’t want to know if Arthur texts him back. He’ll only obsess over the silence if he doesn’t. His “houseguest” didn’t like that he left him alone on New Year’s Eve and stopped being his houseguest immediately afterwards. He wasn’t particularly upset by it.

Chicago Fire FC won’t get into town for at least another couple hours, but Merlin wants to give Arthur the chance to decide if he’s coming. They haven’t texted since New Year so Merlin is only assuming that nothing’s changed in the last two and a half months.

He doesn’t last five minutes before he turns his phone over to look at it.

> **Arthur:** _Eager to see me?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Don’t be so cocky. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to._
> 
> **Merlin:** _Pun not intended, but a happy accident._
> 
> **Merlin:** _I sent the address early so if you decided not to visit I could still make dinner plans with my friends._
> 
> **Arthur:** _The team has dinner reservations tonight_

Merlin blinks a few times at the last message. He can’t decide if this is Arthur’s way of declining or if he’s teasing. He sets his phone down and returns to his computer. He watches some more game footage and makes some notes to share with Leon tomorrow in the pre-game meeting. The other coaches are probably already gone for the evening, so Merlin packs up his messenger bag and shuts off his computer and turns off his lamp. He locks the office door before pulling out his phone to respond. It’s been at least thirty minutes.

> **Arthur:** _But maybe I’ll skip it_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Really? Now you stop responding?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _End of work day. Had to pack up my things and go to my car._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I guess I can forgive you_
> 
> **Arthur:** _It was my birthday last week & you didn’t get me anything_
> 
> **Merlin:** _How old are you now? 45?_

He makes it to his car and throws his things inside. He doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s driven home. It’s an older building, but the flats inside are well updated. It’s the same one-bedroom apartment he lived in with his ex and he didn’t like it for a while, but now he’s changed enough stuff that it feels more like he belongs there.

As he walks up the stairs to his flat, Merlin pulls out his phone again. 

> **Arthur:** _Ha ha very funny. You’re older than I am_
> 
> **Arthur:** _How’ve you been since Vermont?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Fine. Nothing interesting except football._
> 
> **Arthur:** _It’s the MLS not the MLF._
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll be French-Canadian until the day I die. Deal with it._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I can’t_
> 
> **Arthur:** _if I come over will you answer the door naked?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No._
> 
> **Arthur:** _You don’t know how to have fun_

Merlin rolls his eyes and enters his apartment. He puts down his bag at his desk which is against the far wall of his living room. He decides to shower and changes into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt – easily removable. He’s barely dressed when there’s a knock at his door. The hardwood is cold under his feet as he makes his way past the kitchen and opens up the door.

He tries to ask, “How are you here?” because Arthur is standing in his doorway a solid two hours earlier than Merlin expected to see him, but Arthur pushes himself into Merlin’s flat, kicks the door shut, and kisses him.

It feels so good. His fingers and toes tingle. He hardens under his plaid pajamas. He’s already pulling at Arthur’s shirt and getting it up and over his head. Then his hands are on his chest, fingers tugging at his nipples.

Arthur groans and attaches his mouth to Merlin’s neck. “Where’s your bed?” he asks. “I gotta get in you.”

Merlin whimpers. He tries to step away so he could show Arthur into the bedroom, but Arthur won’t let him go. His hands tighten on Merlin’s hips and then slip under the fabric of his pants and grip his ass, massaging the skin there, fingers pulling his cheeks apart.

“God, you make me so fucking hot.”

Merlin feels his face flush. He thinks he’s breathing harder than normal, but he’s also not sure he even remembers how to breathe in the first place. 

“Bed is” – Merlin pants and presses forward, grinding against Arthur – “right through there.”

Arthur turns his head, sees the short hallway and nods. He pulls his hands back and then lifts Merlin up. 

He instinctually wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist and then fastens his mouth to Arthur’s collarbone, his jaw, the side of his mouth. Arthur walks them to Merlin’s room and sets him down on the bed. His hands make quick work of Merlin’s pajamas and he settles his mouth in between Merlin’s thighs, taking him all the way into his mouth.

There is something surreal about each of these encounters with Arthur, almost as though they are too good to be true. Merlin goes to a completely different plane, where everything outside of this room ceases to exist, and the only things alive are him and Arthur in this moment. 

When they’ve come back down, Arthur curls around Merlin’s body and covers his shoulder in kisses. He draws his fingers back and forth across his chest, coaxing little moans out of Merlin.

Merlin can’t help but fall asleep and when he wakes up, Arthur is gone.

***

**April 2013**

**Game #6 –** **Chicago**

**_Arthur_ **

Okay so he can admit that leaving Merlin’s apartment as soon as Merlin had fallen asleep was a terrible idea. He wanted to sleep, too, to wake up the next morning and still be there. There was the game, of course, but also, they aren’t boyfriends and Arthur doesn’t want to make a habit of starting sleepovers with the guy he randomly fucks a few times a year. Merlin is like some sort of drug, though, and he can’t get him out of his system – but he doesn’t think he wants to.

Montreal is supposed to be in town for a game in three days. Arthur looks around his apartment and realizes all the changes he’s made since Merlin was here last. There are still some abstract paintings on the wall, but he has a new dining table and a new sofa. He got rid of the awful rug and the lamps that he didn’t really like in the first place. It feels more like a home than it used to.

Merlin’s place was impressive. Arthur looked around at all his shelves and pictures before he slipped out the door. Merlin’s walls were mostly exposed brick, but he had a lot of shelves. There were books on travel, novels written entirely in French, and photos of what looked to be Merlin with both friends and family. Everything about Merlin’s apartment seemed to fit him. Arthur remembers Merlin telling him that he used to share the space with his ex, but there wasn’t anything in there that didn’t feel purposeful. Merlin seemed to know himself and Arthur was actually a bit jealous of that.

Arthur gets dressed to go out with Lance and Gwaine, to some club that Gwaine says is _the_ place to be. He waits downstairs in front of his building for them to show up in their Uber and pulls out his phone to help pass the time.

> **Arthur** : _3 days_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Until what?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Don’t play games with me you know what_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Are you bored? You usually wait until the day I’m supposed to get to Chicago._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Not bored. Going out with a couple friends & waiting on the Uber_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Where are you off to?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Some club_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Ah, going to find your next conquest?_

Arthur pauses. Merlin uses that word a lot. He doesn’t like it, not in the negative way Merlin says it. Truthfully, his time picking up random women (and the occasional man) has been lessening little by little over the last year. He hasn’t even been with anyone since the last time he was in Montreal. He doesn’t want to think about what that even means.

> **Arthur:** _No. I’ll definitely be going home alone tonight_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll believe it when I see it_.

He wasn’t necessarily planning on coming home alone, or coming home at all, but he’s not as wild as Merlin seems to think he is and now he feels like he has to prove that. Arthur puts his phone in the back pocket of his jeans just as the Uber pulls up. They go out to a bar first to load up on carbs since Gwaine lives by the rule that bread soaks up alcohol in his stomach is keeps him from getting hangovers. Then they go to the club, which Arthur admits isn’t the worst time he’s ever had. They dance and drink and while Arthur tips the scales towards drunk, Gwaine lands somewhere between smashed and plastered. It’s hard to tell with Lance because he somehow manages to always remain perfectly calm. 

Arthur and Lance end up having to take Gwaine home and practically throw him on his bed to sleep it off. Arthur is not nearly as caring for Gwaine as he was the girl from the lodge in Vermont, but he does manage to set a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on Gwaine’s bedside table. 

It’s late when the Uber finally stops in front of his building and Arthur’s buzz has almost completely gone away. He brushes his teeth and washes his face and falls into bed. The room is only slightly swaying. 

He grabs his phone and takes a picture, carefully positioning himself so that most of the empty bed can be seen in the frame. Then he texts it to Merlin and falls asleep.

When Merlin finally shows up at his apartment two days later, he says, “We have to make up for all the nights you’ve clearly been unable to coax a woman to come home with you.”

“You think I’m unable to?”

“Maybe I’ve made it so easy for you to get laid you haven’t put as much effort into trying with other people. I’m surprised you went home alone the other night.”

Arthur considers this; Merlin isn’t wrong. “You talk too much. You should get on your knees.”

Merlin smirks. “Been dreaming about it all week.”

***

Of course, Merlin doesn’t stay. The game against his team ends in a tie and Arthur goes out with some of the team for dinner afterwards while Merlin’s team boards a bus to go … somewhere. He doesn’t know their schedule.

That night he dreams about Merlin. About his mouth, his body, him writhing underneath him. He wakes up sweaty and hard at six-thirty the next morning. He fumbles for his phone and calls Merlin. It doesn’t occur to him until the phone is ringing that they’ve never actually done this before.

“ _Allo_?” Merlin answers.

“You’ve completely ruined me.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Merlin says. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No – where are you?”

“California.”

“Oh shit. That means it’s—”

“Four-thirty, yeah.”

“You don’t sound like I woke you up, though,” Arthur accuses.

“Montréal time,” Merlin says. “Feels like seven.”

“Is that when you usually get up? Oh my god, are you a morning person?”

“Why are you calling, Arthur?” Merlin asks.

“I had a dream about you and I woke up hard.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything.

“So I had to call you to tell you about it. Maybe you can help me.”

“Help you?” Merlin repeats. “You mean, like phone sex?”

“Any kind of sex. We should FaceTime.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Are you in a hotel room? Do you have a roommate?”

“Yes, I came into the hallway to have this conversation.”

Arthur sighs. “You can’t do phone sex properly if you’re in a hallway.” 

“No shit.”

Arthur laughs. “Sorry, you rarely say bad words. I love it.”

Merlin clears his throat. “Right.”

“You want me to tell you about my dream?”

“No! I’m in a hallway. You can’t talk to me about your sex dreams when I’m in public.”

“It’s four a.m. there. No one is going to hear.”

“No. Maybe another time.”

“Fine.” Arthur doesn’t want to hang up just yet so he says, “It was a good game yesterday. Your goalie did well.”

“Leon, yeah. He’s doing good this season.”

“It sucks that you all left immediately after the game. It would’ve been nice to see you one more time.”

Merlin is quiet for a moment before saying, “Yes, I agree.” He clears his throat. “What’d you end up doing afterwards? Another nightclub?”

“No, dinner with some of the team. Drinks after with a couple friends. Home before midnight.”

“You have friends? I’m shocked.”

“Friends from the team. Lance and Gwaine.”

“You’ve told me about them before, I think,” Merlin says. “Do they know you’re … you know. Bi?”

“No. It hasn’t come up.”

“Does anyone know?”

“My sister,” Arthur says. 

“Why not anyone else?”

“This conversation just got real serious real fast.” Arthur sits up and moves his pillows so he can lean comfortably against the headboard. “No one else knows because I don’t want to be known as the gay or bi soccer player. I’ll tell Lance and Gwaine at some point. I don’t know about anyone else. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also don’t want to have to do interviews with _Sports Illustrated_ and have them ask me questions about it.”

“You think _Sports Illustrated_ wants to talk to you? That’s adorable.”

“Fuck off.”

Merlin laughs and Arthur joins in.

“You’re not out on your team, are you?” Arthur asks.

“Some know. The head coach. My goalkeeper. I’m actually pretty close to Leon. He saw one of our texts and figured it out. Not that it was you,” Merlin quickly adds, “but that I was texting with another man.”

“Oh. And he was cool with it?”

“Yeah, completely.”

“What about your parents?”

“My mum,” says Merlin. “She’s known since I was twelve or so. I came out really young.”

“She was supportive?”

“Of course. She loves me. Are your parents not?”

“It’s only my dad now and I’m not sure he remembers that I’m bi. I didn’t exactly tell him, but more one day said I had a date with another man and he looked at me and didn’t say anything and then went back to his newspaper. We haven’t spoken about it since. I told my sister when we were in high school that I liked one of my teammates.”

“Did your teammate like you back?”

“No. I didn’t end up hooking up with my first bloke until my early twenties. Completely changed my world.”

“I’ll bet. I was fifteen. First kiss. First ‘hook up’ as you say, not until I was eighteen.”

“I was sixteen the first time I was with a girl. Being with another guy was scary,” Arthur admits. “I kept worrying that he wasn’t really gay or I was reading the signals wrong.”

“Is it weird being bi?” Merlin asks.

“Weird? Weird how?”

“Because you could be with anyone. You have double the amount of people to turn you down than the rest of us.”

Arthur laughs again. “Wow, you really like being mean to me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I really actively think about being bi all that often,” says Arthur. “I know that my most recent ex-girlfriend couldn’t handle it. Kept thinking I was always looking at other guys.”

“I think that says more about her trust issues than it does about you being bi.”

“Maybe.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

“No, but I’m not opposed to it. Gender doesn’t really matter as long as I get what I need from them.”

Merlin clears his throat. “And what do you need?”

“The usual.”

“Regular sex?”

“Of course. Why? What do you need when you’re picking out a boyfriend?”

“That’s an interesting question … I don’t really ‘pick’ a boyfriend. You make it sound as though men are simply waiting in vending machines to be chosen by me.”

“Aren’t they?” Arthur laughs. “I don’t imagine you have a lot of difficulty finding men.”

Merlin is quiet for a moment.

“Are you still in the hallway?”

“Yes, but I’ve sat down under the window at the end. There aren’t any rooms this far down.”

“Pajamas?”

“Of course. You called me at four in the morning, what else would I be wearing?”

“Nothing at all, if I were lucky.”

Merlin snorts out a laugh. Arthur grins at himself.

“All right, so back to your vending machine of men.”

“No, I—” Merlin stops and then starts again. “I don’t know how to answer your question.”

“You had a boyfriend for six years, didn’t you? What was so great about that that you lasted for so long?”

“He tolerated me.”

Arthur laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“Seriously.” Merlin clears his throat, which Arthur is beginning to suspect he does whenever he has something that is difficult for him to say. “I’m not perfect.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” When Merlin doesn’t say anything, Arthur adds, “At least in bed you’re perfect. How many men have you been with?”

“Including you? Eight.”

“That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I guess. Are you looking for anyone now? I don’t know if you do those dating apps or anything.”

“I do occasionally. I’m not actively looking, no. Sometimes. I tried to date someone last year. Lasted for about two months before it … dissolved.”

“What happened?”

“He wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“Okay,” Arthur says, “if you were going to take me on a date, where would you take me?”

“What?”

“I’m curious – you said you need more than just regular sex when picking a boyfriend. So pretend I’m a new boyfriend. What would you do to show me you’d want to keep me?”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

“Well, duh. We can pretend.”

“Let me think. You spout that you’re a pretty simple guy, but I don’t think you are,” Merlin says. “Taking you to a restaurant and doing the typical stuff wouldn’t impress you.” Merlin clicks his tongue. “Did you know there’s a leather museum in Chicago?”

“What does that mean?”

“I was googling things to do in Chicago a while ago and came across it. Kink museum. History of BDSM.”

“You think I’d like that?”

“Absolutely. You’re sex-positive. I think you’d enjoy the learning, even if you aren’t interested in the application. I also think you’d like the architecture of Chicago. It’s fascinating and beautiful. Boat tours on the lake. Also beautiful. They’re for tourists, yes, but I know you like to learn. You try to play the dumb jock, but you’re really not, and the people you’re with tend to treat you that way. I don’t see you like that, so I’d challenge you to broaden this self-image that you’ve created for yourself.”

Arthur wants to hang up. It wasn’t supposed to get this deep.

“Now do me.”

“Huh?”

“My perfect date. Where would you take me?”

“Nowhere.”

“Ouch.”

“No, I mean – probably my place.” Arthur’s scrambling. “No, that’s not it either. Let me think.” His brain is overloaded with all the things Merlin said to him and he tries to push them to the side so he can focus on what Merlin might like instead. He has no idea. Maybe Merlin is wrong and he’s a dumb jock after all, because he clearly doesn’t know Merlin as well as Merlin knows him. “I don’t think I’d want to take you anywhere. I think I’d want to spend the whole day doing nothing except focusing on you.”

“Hmmm.”

“I think I’d like the chance to make you scream.”

“ _Merde_. You come to Montréal in July.”

“For the day only,” Arthur says. “The game is at one o’clock. They’re bussing us this time. Montreal for one day. The game and then we leave and go straight to one of the New England stadiums for a game the next day.”

“Oh.”

“We’ll have to figure something out,” Arthur says. He pulls his phone away from his ear to look at the time. “I got to get up and get ready for practice.”

“I should try to get more sleep.”

“You can, er, call me or text me later. If you want. I think you owe me some photos of yourself.”

“A bedroom selfie?”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe when I’m back at home and not in a hotel.”

“Okay.”

Merlin takes a deep breath. “Good bye, Arthur.” He ends the call before Arthur can reply. 

***

**July 2013**

**Game #14 –** **Montréal**

**_Merlin_ **

Merlin tries to call Arthur, but it goes straight to voicemail. He sends him three texts, each several hours apart, that all go unanswered. After their hallway-phone-call (Merlin has no idea what to even call that), they’ve texted a few times, but not with any particular regularity. But Arthur is supposed to be in town in another two days and Merlin is trying to figure out if they can steal even an hour away together. He doesn’t think he could stand it if Arthur is in the same city as him without meeting up.

The morning of the game, Merlin sends one last message.

**Merlin:** _If you’ve met someone my feelings won’t be hurt. I know this is only for fun. I won’t keep messaging you if you don’t want._

He goes to the game. Of course he sees Arthur there and for a moment, he thinks Arthur is trying to catch his attention, but he ignores it. Leon has one of the greatest games of his life and they win, 3-0. Not a single kick gets past him. Merlin has never been prouder. He can’t wait to watch the game footage later.

The head coach invites him out to dinner, but Merlin decides to go home first and shower and change before heading to the restaurant. He pulls in front of his building and parks and then goes up to the third floor where his flat is.

“ _Que fais-tu ici?_ ”

“I don’t speak—”

Merlin waves a hand. “What are you doing here?” he translates.

Arthur is leaning against his front door. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and different shorts, but there’s grass and dirt on his leg, which means he may not have showered after the game.

“I have less than ten minutes.” Arthur pushes off the door and kisses Merlin, cupping his cheeks in his hands. He pulls away. “I left my phone back in New York, but the concierge had to overnight it to an actual address, so it’s waiting at the next hotel.”

“You came over to tell me that?”

“Didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you.”

Merlin nodded. “Right.”

“Open your door.”

“Right,” Merlin says again. He fumbles with his keys before unlocking his front door. He’s barely inside when Arthur presses against him. The next kiss is soft, a little tender. One of Arthur’s hands grips Merlin’s hip and kneads at the skin.

“This is bullshit,” Arthur whispers against his mouth. “Set a timer.”

“What?”

“Set a timer for five minutes. I had to use Gwaine’s phone to order an Uber and I asked the guy to wait downstairs for twenty minutes, and I’m pretty sure I only have five left.”

Merlin pulls his phone out of his front pocket and sets the timer. He lets out an embarrassing whimper when Arthur sinks to his knees and starts unbuckling his belt.

“If you can’t come in five minutes then you’re on your own, but I’d really like to have the taste of you in my mouth for the bus ride.”

“Fuck,” Merlin breathes. He leans against the wall behind him and closes his eyes and lets himself just feel what Arthur is doing. His laces his fingers through Arthur’s hair. It’s like a race to the finish and Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever come so quick in his life. He empties into Arthur’s mouth and the alarm is going off somewhere in the background.

Arthur stands, kisses Merlin’s cheek, and is gone.

***

Late that night, after Merlin has cleaned up, gone back out to dinner and returned home, his phone goes off.

> **Arthur:** _I’m going to answer your texts in order._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Yes I want to see you_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No I haven’t fallen off the face of the planet_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No I’m not seeing anyone and honestly I could do with more of your texts so you should do it more often. Preferably with naked pictures of yourself_
> 
> **Merlin:** _You can keep asking but I’ll never send you naked pictures of myself. Sorry._
> 
> **Arthur:** _A boy can dream._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Don’t worry either if the day comes where I no longer want to fuck you I wont ignore your messages, I’ll tell you. So in the future if I don’t respond, there’s probably a good reason like I lost my phone or I died_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Not really funny, but okay. If you ever do end up meeting someone else, please tell me. I don’t want to find out later on that I’ve been party to someone cheating._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m insulted._
> 
> **Merlin:** _It was not my intention to insult you. Being honest._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Fine. I promise to tell you if I end up meeting someone I else._
> 
> **Arthur:** _We should FaceTime_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m assuming you mean naked FaceTime._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Obviously_
> 
> **Merlin:** _When you’re back in your house and all alone, I’ll consider it, but when you’re sharing a room with one of your teammates, absolutely not._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Fine. I’ll check my calendar_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Send me an iCal invite._

He’s just joking, but twenty minutes later, his phone lights up with invites to all the times when Arthur is home alone, free from games and practice. Merlin declines some of the dates because of his own MLS schedule, but there’s at least two dates a month between now and December. The final iCal invite comes in and Merlin stares at it. He doesn’t want to click accept but he doesn’t want to ignore it either.

**New**

**COME TO VERMONT**

From **:** Arthur Pendragon

Saturday 21 December 2013 All Day

**Accept Maybe Decline**

He chooses Maybe instead.

***

**December 2013**

**Christmas – Vermont**

**_Arthur_ **

So he’s here at the lodge two days before his sister or his father are supposed to arrive. He loves this place. It’s decorated like a giant log cabin, but still has the amenities of a five-star hotel. It’s luxurious in the ways that he likes, but maybe people who ski don’t watch soccer because when he’s here, no one ever seems to recognize him. Now that he’s been part of Chicago’s team for the second season in a row, people around the city stop to talk to him. Not every day, but often enough that he’s avoided certain restaurants or bars if he knows a lot of MLS fans hang out there. Vermont seems to offer enough anonymity that he can relax. Perhaps it’s because this lodge is very expensive and other athletes and celebrities and famous CEOs or businessowners stay here and everyone knows what it’s like to be recognized when you want to be on vacation.

Since July, Arthur and Merlin have managed to have three successful FaceTime sessions that ended without clothes. He would have liked more, but it took over a month to help Merlin get comfortable enough with it and Arthur didn’t want to push too much and scare him off. The great thing about FaceTime was he got to see all of Merlin. It made it both easier and harder to be so far away for so much of the year.

Arthur wonders what’ll happen when Merlin meets someone he wants to be with. Arthur doubts he’ll be the first one to find a partner; it’ll definitely be Merlin. Merlin is too good to remain single. Arthur is a bit of a slag so it makes sense he’d still be alone. He’s still young, too, only twenty-six. Settling down isn’t on his radar and that’s fine. Although if he _does_ want to find someone, he should probably stop spending so much of his spare time trying to find ways to get Merlin to take off all his clothes on the other side of his iPhone. He’s pretty sure any future girlfriends aren’t going to want him to have video phone sex with another man once a month.

When Merlin finally arrives at the hotel Saturday night, Arthur practically attacks him. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Arthur says as Merlin sucks on his bottom lip.

If anyone needs to come looking for them, their discarded shoes and clothes leave a trail, like breadcrumbs, to the back bedroom. They spend hours kissing and touching, only stopping for water and once to order room service for dinner. The food only gets half-eaten. Arthur didn’t realize how starved he felt until Merlin’s tongue sweeps into his mouth. It’s close to two in the morning when Merlin says he needs to sleep.

“Finally wore you out, huh?”

“Mmm,” Merlin hums.

“We can’t wait five months again.”

“Our teams only play each other three times a year. I don’t know what you expect.”

“To figure something else out.”

“FaceTime sex doesn’t cut it?” Merlin jokes.

“Not even close,” Arthur says. 

“Yeah,” admits Merlin, “I know.”

Arthur presses kisses into Merlin’s neck. “When I wake up, are you gonna be gone like last time?”

“Depends on how late you sleep.”

“I’ll set an alarm. I want to have morning sex with you.”

Merlin grimaces. “Morning sex … but only if you brush your teeth first.”

“Whatever gets you to stay for another round tomorrow.”

Merlin settles deeper into the blankets. Arthur watches him fall asleep, hoping he’ll still be there in the morning.

***

When Arthur wakes up, the bed is empty, but he smells coffee. He goes to his suitcase and pulls out a clean pair of boxers before going into the en suite and cleaning his teeth. Once he makes it into the kitchen, Merlin is there, prepping two mugs. He’s fully dressed, which Arthur finds tragic.

“Are you already leaving?”

“Soon, yeah.” Merlin glances at him and then his eyes flick away. “I’m hosting Christmas dinner for my mom and my uncle at my house so I really need to do the shopping and I never got around to decorating a Christmas tree.”

Arthur takes the coffee mug from Merlin and sips it. He wants to be angry, but Merlin has a whole life separate from him, separate from their quarterly hookups. He doesn’t really have a right to be angry and he tries to push those feelings away.

“Is there a new schedule yet?” Arthur asks.

“No. I’m sure we’ll be playing in February or March.”

Arthur nods. “Right.”

“When the schedule comes out we’ll take a look at it. There’s a lot of cities close by. When you play Ottawa, Montréal is only two hours away. Or maybe we’ll both be in Texas or California at the same time – they all have multiple teams.”

“Right,” Arthur says. “I mean, the sex is so good I hate to deprive you of it for too long.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “ _N’importe quoi_.” He takes a long sip of his coffee and then sets the mug down. He crossed the room and kisses Arthur.

“You’re an idiot,” he says against Arthur’s mouth. “If anything, I’m the one depriving you of amazing sex. When does your family leave?”

“We all leave on the same day this time. New Year’s Day.”

“Call me when you’re back in Chicago, then.”

Arthur nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Merlin kisses his cheek and leaves. Arthur stands in the middle of his empty lodge suite and wonders what the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

***

> **Merlin:** _Joyeux Noel!_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Fröhliche Weihnachten_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Since when did you learn German?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Google translate_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Of course. How’s your holiday?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Exhausting. My dad brought his new girlfriend. We’ve never had to deal with one of his girlfriends during Christmas before Morgana is not handling it well but I think she’s my age_
> 
> **Arthur:** _The gf, not my sister. The gf is 27_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Yikes, that must be weird._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Ja_
> 
> **Merlin:** _More Google translate?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _sì_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Did you get any good presents?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No my dad gave me broadway tickets & expects to go with me_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Which show? Please say History Boys._
> 
> **Arthur:** _something called Hedwig but it has that guy from How I Met Your Mother my dad said it’s been cast but the show doesn’t start for another few months or something_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Arthur._
> 
> **Merlin:** _Does your father have any idea what that show is about?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Actually, do YOU?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Maybe this is your dad’s way of giving you an olive branch_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’ve never been to a broadway show is this one bad?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _It’s about Hedwig who is genderqueer and has a sex-change operation that goes awry and leave him with an inch._
> 
> **Arthur:** _An inch of what?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _……………._
> 
> **Arthur:** _NEVER MIND I FIGURED IT OUT_
> 
> **Arthur:** _enough about my Christmas. How was yours? Favorite present?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _My mom always gets me first or early edition of French novels. I added two new ones to my collection._
> 
> **Arthur:** _What are they_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Liaisons de Dangereuses. L’étranger_ _._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Cool_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I don’t mind that you don’t read._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I do read sometimes but only in English_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m off to bed. I’m sorry your Christmas wasn’t better. Maybe your dad will forget about the Hedwig tickets._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I know something that could make me feel better_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m not sending you naked selfies._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Why not!!!_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Good night._ _Fais de beaux rêves._

***

**March 2014**

**Preseason – Montréal**

**_Merlin_ **

The game is tomorrow but with the way Chicago’s schedule is, they’re in town the night before and leave as soon as the game is done for Ottawa and then New York City. Montréal leaves in three days for California and then Ohio, Massachusetts, and New York, before back to Canada. 

Once Arthur and Merlin both come and clean up the absolute debauchery that’s all over Merlin’s bedlinens, they sit in their boxers on Merlin’s sofa. He starts a fire in his fireplace but neither of them seem to want to put on clothes to stay warm. They look at their teams’ schedules and try to map out time here they can try to steal away for each other, but they’re never close enough when they’re both on the road.

“I don’t know how to make this work,” Merlin says. “I think we may be stuck with Impact versus Fire games. Do you want me to order something for dinner?”

“You want me to stay?”

“If you want to, sure.”

Arthur looks momentarily disappointed – or maybe confused – but then he smiles and suggests Indian. Merlin pulls up a restaurant in the same block of buildings, and calls them to order. He has to run down to pick it up and he leaves Arthur alone in his apartment. When he gets back, Arthur’s thrown on his clothes.

They eat on the sofa, straight out of the containers, facing one another. It’s quiet, but only feels half-awkward. They haven’t really spent much time together outside of sex. They do all right speaking on the phone and through texts, but being in front of one another feels a little off.

“Are you ready for the game tomorrow?” Merlin asks. “You’re getting really popular. I saw your face on the cover of _People_ again.”

Arthur sighs. “Yeah. Adidas is trying to sign me to some sort of deal. My agent is handling it.”

“Adidas? Really? That’s amazing. Why don’t you look happy about it?”

“I’m happy.”

“ _Menteur_. Liar.”

Arthur glances up at him and then back down at his food. “You may think it’s dumb. I told my agent I’d only sign a deal that lasted for no more than a year. A couple guys on the team and I have been talking about trying to start a new company.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

Arthur puts his fork in the takeaway container and places it on the coffee table. “Ethical and eco-friendly sporting goods. From clothes to shoes to equipment. One-hundred-percent ethically sourced. You still hear about sweatshops and things like that. Factories for shoes. It’s … grotesque.”

“You want to start a sporting goods store?”

“Yeah. We have a lot of the start-up money already from our other deals. Gwaine has something that ends in November and then Lance’s ends December of next year. After that, we want to start. So if I sign, it has to be short and I’d take all that money and put it towards this project.”

“That’s kind of amazing.”

Arthur shrugs. “I have some money my grandfather left me, too. I don’t really do much with it. Seems like a waste to keep it in the bank. Might as well do something good with it. I also can’t play soccer forever.”

“You’re in your prime, though.”

“I’m not in love with it.”

“ _Menteur_ ,” Merlin says again. 

“I love the game. I don’t love the fame and the politics. I want to play. I don’t want to do interviews or have my photograph in a magazine that you buy at the check-out counter at the grocery store. No, thanks.”

Merlin puts his food container next to Arthur’s on the table and then leans forward and kisses him. He tastes like tiki masala and sex. It’s an interesting combination, but Merlin likes it.

Arthur gazes at him, an odd look in eye when he pulls away. “What was that for?”

Merlin shrugs. “You’re kind of amazing sometimes.”

“You act surprised.”

“When you tried to pick me up in that bar two years ago, I had no idea I’d – I had no idea you’d be this interesting. That’s all.”

“I _knew_ you thought I was nothing but a dumb jock back then.”

“You proved me wrong.” Merlin presses forward again. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Arthur doesn’t object.

***

**April 2014**

> **Arthur:** _What’s your goalie’s issue?! De Marco ALWAYS kicks on the same side of the net. What kind of goalkeeper coach are you!!_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Stop watching my games. I know how to do my job._
> 
> **Merlin:** _Besides last night against Galaxy and you almost got kicked out of the game. Keep your mouth shut so you won’t get in trouble._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Only one way to ensure I don’t say the wrong thing…_
> 
> **Merlin:** _If you say stuff your mouth with my cock so you can’t talk, so help me…_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Shove your dick in my mouth_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Jinx_
> 
> **Merlin:** _New number, who’s this?_

***

**May 2014**

> **Merlin:** _THAT WAS YOUR BEST GAME EVER_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Call me, I’m free for another two hours and then I have a plane ride to Orlando._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Sorry just got done with one of those stupid post game press conferences. About to shower. I should get a prize for playing the best game of my life_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m getting ready to board the plane now. What kind of prize?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You know what I want_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m literally about to get on a plane!_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I paid for WiFi for my phone. I can’t FaceTime in a plane full of footballers, but I can text._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Holy shit dirty Merlin texts? Hold on, I’ll be home in 20_

*******

**June 2014**

**Game #12 – Chicago**

**_Arthur_ **

When Merlin calls his phone, he ignores it and lets it ring until voicemail picks up. Merlin sends him a text telling him to answer his “goddamn phone.” He turns his phone off completely and tries to go to bed. It doesn’t work. He tosses and turns for almost two hours before getting back up and going into his kitchen to make some coffee. He sits with his mug and flips through the television channels. He doesn’t even know what he wants to watch.

He knows Merlin will be here in two days, but he doesn’t know if he can see him. It kills him. He wants to see him, wants to kiss him and shove him face-first into his mattress and hear him scream and moan.

Arthur groans in frustration and grabs his phone and turns it back on. Texts and iMessages immediately flood in to his inbox. He scrolls past all of them and opens up Merlin’s. He only reads the latest one.

> **Merlin:** _You’re an idiot. I’m coming to Chicago now. You better turn your phone back on before I get to your building._

Arthur looks at the time. Shit, he’ll literally be here, in the same city, any minute. As though his fingers have a mind of their own, he texts Merlin six numbers – _022012_ – and presses send. His code to get into the front entrance.

***

When Arthur opens the door an hour later, Merlin is there, his hair a little unruly from the wind, wearing jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He has on a pair of black and white Vans and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He has the handle of a rolling suitcase in one hand, and a cup from Starbucks in the other. Arthur has never seen Merlin look so casual, and certainly had no idea he owned any band t-shirts. He loves it. He loves everything about how Merlin looks like right.

Arthur steps aside and lets Merlin in. “You didn’t have to fly in with your team?”

“They’re taking the bus. Montréal to Chicago to Columbus to New Jersey to Ottawa to home. I’ll catch up with them tomorrow. But you’re a _connard_ who screened all my calls.”

“I didn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. He walks further into the apartment and sets his suitcase by the sofa and takes off his backpack. He finishes whatever was in coffee cup and puts that on the side table. When he turns back to Arthur, he takes a deep breath and says, “Tell me everything.”

“What’s to tell? I’m fine.”

Merlin toes off his shoes and pulls off his socks. 

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Arthur says dryly.

“I wasn’t really planning on taking a plane here when I woke up this morning, so I’m not quite prepared. My feet are tired. There was an accident blocking the road to the airport so I ended up walking a couple kilometers and these aren’t the shoes to walk in. Anyway.”

Arthur stays silent.

“Do you want to sit?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I’m—”

“Arthur, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“Why aren’t _you_ upset?”

Merlin looks confused. “Why would I be upset? I wasn’t the one photographed leaving a gay bar. My picture isn’t in every tabloid and blog and Buzzfeed article.”

Arthur stares at him and then looks away. “Forget it.” 

Merlin crosses the room and puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t help.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Arthur. You’ve told me before you don’t want to be known as the ‘gay soccer player.’ You were outed without your permission. Your picture was everywhere today. The lady I sat next to on the plane was reading clickbait about you. It’s all right to be pissed off.”

Arthur shrugs off Merlin’s grip and takes a couple steps back.

“You seem angry with me.” Merlin pauses and looks at him, seems to study him. “Are you mad that I’m not upset over this?” When Arthur doesn’t answer, Merlin continues, “Is there a reason I should be upset?” Another pause. “I’ll admit, when I first saw the headlines I got a little wounded. Jealous, maybe. You were at a gay bar, which I can only assume was to pick up a man to bring home. That made me sad because, of course, I’d like to be the one to take you home, but we live over a thousand kilometers apart. That can never happen. But _then_ I noticed that all the photos were of you leaving alone, so I didn’t stay upset for long.”

“I didn’t get photographed on purpose.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“I did go to pick up a guy, though.”

Merlin seems to do his best to keep a poker face. Arthur sees a slight falter, but he can’t interpret the meaning behind it.

“I didn’t really like any of them, so I left. Now I’m ignoring calls from my publicist and my agent. They’re both wanting statements and I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Let’s sit down and we can talk about it. Okay?”

Arthur nods and lets Merlin guide him to the sofa. He sits down and Merlin faces him. He doesn’t want to look at him, so he puts his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees, and focuses on breathing.

“Is there any reason why you wouldn’t want to come out other than not wanting the attention?”

“I don’t want to be a spokesperson for the LGBT community. Maybe I should, but I don’t want to be.”

“How come?”

“I’m a soccer player who happens to sometimes want to sleep with men. I feel like soccer defines me more than being bi does.”

“That makes sense,” Merlin says. He puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur leans into it. “So maybe you refuse to comment on it. Or maybe you make a statement that doesn’t confirm or deny anything.”

“How so?” Arthur sits back up and looks at Merlin. He really wants to stop talking and start peeling Merlin’s clothes off.

“Maybe something like … you confirm you were in the bar, and you support the gay community but it’s shameful that you leaving a place that serves alcohol, where any number of your friends could be hanging out, is worthy of the news. Make it seem like the reporters should be ashamed for making ‘gay’ be newsworthy.”

“You should be my PR rep.”

Merlin sits back into the sofa and puts his feet on the coffee table. He looks tired, Arthur is just now noticing. But they keep talking. About what it means to be gay in the world of sports. What it could look like, how it could change both everything and nothing. Merlin wants to believe that people are evolved enough not to care, but Arthur isn’t as optimistic. Arthur wishes he could be okay with being a role model for gay youth, but honestly, he doesn’t want that responsibility. He doesn’t want his soccer legacy to be synonymous with the word _gay_.

When it finally feels they have talked the subject to death, Merlin asks, “So do you often leave gay bars alone?”

“That was the first time I’ve been in a gay bar in a while.”

“Do you often leave non-gay bars alone?”

“That’s a loaded question. If I say no, you won’t believe me. If I say yes, you’ll be upset.”

“I won’t be. It’s only a question.”

“Will you answer it?”

Merlin shifts a little in his seat. “Sure. I haven’t been to a gay bar in almost a year.”

“How many people have you hooked up with in the last year?”

Arthur watches Merlin’s face closely as he thinks how to answer the question. He wants to be able to figure out if he’s lying.

“Two,” Merlin finally says. “The last guy I was with was back in October.”

“That’s a long time ago.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merlin says with a shrug. “I’m not much for casual hookups – present company excluded – so it’s pretty normal for me. But you don’t have to answer. It’s okay.”

Arthur wants to tell him he hasn’t been with anyone else; he doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment on Merlin’s face. If he told him the truth, he’d have to tell him he’s slept with several women. He keeps going back to girls, hoping one of them will spark something in him. They never do. He’s gone to a few gay bars and clubs, but always left alone. He dances and occasionally made out with a few different men, but there’s even less of a spark with them than there is with the women he beds. He wants the same excitement he gets when he kisses Merlin, the same heat rushing through his body he gets when he sees Merlin sink to his knees.

He finally says, “Honestly, there’s no one that’s as exciting as you.”

Merlin is quiet and searches his face – but for what, Arthur doesn’t know. When Merlin yawns, Arthur stands and offers him a hand. He pulls him up and leads him to his bedroom.

They undress and when they get under the blankets, Merlin puts his arms around Arthur and everything slots into place.

***

**July 2014**

> **Merlin:** _You haven’t seen Brokeback Mountain?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No? I know it’s about gay cowboys_
> 
> **Merlin:** _It’s on Netflix. Go watch it. Report back._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m about to go to practice & I’m supposed to go out with the guys tonight. Is this better than breezeway _
> 
> **Arthur:** _Breezeway is an exclusive nightclub_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I know, I just Googled it._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I gtg I’ll text you later_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m going to breezeway_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Have fun. Wear a condom._
> 
> **Arthur:** _GIF_attached:All-the-eye-rolling_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I came home early it was boring I guess I’ll watch your gay movie_
> 
> **Merlin:** __
> 
> **Arthur:** _Oh shit they’re gonna do it in the tent_
> 
> **Arthur** : _this would be better if it was rated x, just saying_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Wait. Why is Heath Ledger marrying that girl from Dawson’s Creek?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Wtf are you making me watch?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Their love story is beautiful._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I wish I knew how to quit you. Fucking heartstrings, man_
> 
> **Arthur:** _JACK DIES?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME WATCH_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Their love story is beautiful._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Say that one more time I swear to god. He has Jack’s flannel shirt in his closet. Fuck. Why do you hate me? why would you tell me to watch that? Wtf is wrong with you?_
> 
> **Merlin:** __
> 
> **Arthur:** _You knew I’d watch it & be miserable you little shit_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I wish I knew how to quit you_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No you don’t_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Yeah you are right. Your too much fun_
> 
> **Merlin:** _*You’re_
> 
> **Arthur:** _fuck off. Next time I choose the movie_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Challenge accepted._

***

**August 2014**

> **Merlin:** _I hate you._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Muahahaha payback_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Have you actually SEEN Atonement or did you Google “saddest movies certain to make Merlin cry”?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _The second_
> 
> **Merlin:** _And to think I’ve been doing crunches every day so I could take some shirtless pictures for you. Now? Denied._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Son of a bitch._

***

**September 2014**

> **Arthur:** _THE FLIGHT WAS CANCELED_
> 
> **Merlin:** _There’re terrible storms. All flights are grounded for at least the next several hours._
> 
> **Arthur** : _Well what the shit?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m disappointed too._
> 
> **Arthur:** _When are your games over?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _End of September_
> 
> **Arthur:** _My Adidas thing is in New York in October. Are you free?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Which day?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m there the 22-26_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Okay. Which day do you want me to visit?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _All of them_

***

**October 2014**

**Adidas Campaign – New York City**

**_Merlin_ **

He walks around the top of the Empire State Building. It’s pretty high up, high enough that he can’t imagine going to these buildings that are even higher. Earlier in the day he went by One World Trade Center, but it wasn’t open yet. It was a beautiful building, though. He’s saving Central Park for tomorrow.

When he’s done looking around, he goes back down and walks back to the hotel. It’s less than half a mile.

He flew in two nights ago and went straight to the hotel. Arthur had checked in that afternoon and had room service waiting, although by the time they got to it, it was cold. They ate it anyway.

A few weeks after the photograph of Arthur leaving the gay bar was taken, it became old news. Arthur ended up doing exactly what Merlin suggested and released a statement that said he should be allowed to go out with friends to whatever bar he wants and whether he’s part of the LGBTQ community shouldn’t be newsworthy. He neither confirmed nor denied anything. It made several news outlets angry but even more were supportive. Still, he wasn’t ready to be seen around town with Merlin and if Merlin was honest, he was okay with that. The last thing Merlin wants is for the Head Coach to see pictures of him hanging out with someone from a rival team. That would not look good for either of them.

Today Arthur is traipsing all over New York City getting his picture taken in various Adidas gear. They decided to meet back at the hotel around dinnertime. Merlin assumes they’ll order room service again.

It’s weird having this much time with Arthur – multiple nights in a row. Merlin doesn’t want to admit how much he liked sharing a bed all night with Arthur. It’s not the first time, of course, but it’s the most purposeful. Last Christmas they technically spent the night together, although Merlin couldn’t sleep and as soon as he could, he jumped out of bed, got dressed, and made coffee. If he hadn’t driven over two hours to get to Arthur in the first place, he would have gone immediately home. Chicago, though, only a few months ago, that was different. That felt enormous, like something shifted. It was the first time they had gotten together that hadn’t ended in sex and for some reason that really felt okay.

This though – this whole weekend – it already feels different. Beyond enormous, but Merlin isn’t sure whether Arthur feels it too. He hopes so, but if he does, what would that even mean? They live thirteen-hundred kilometers apart and are part of rival football teams. It would never work outside of their little bubble.

When Merlin gets to the Langham, a lovely building with modern rooms, he takes the elevator up to their floor. The room Adidas booked for Arthur is a junior suite. Apparently he told Adidas he didn’t care what size room he had as long as he had a terrace to sit out on and Merlin is so glad for it. The terrace seems almost as big as the room, with large double doors that open out on to it. He sat out there this morning with coffee and a book after Arthur left to go be a model for the day.

Merlin’s barely inside the hotel room when Arthur pounces and pins him back against the closed door. They kiss and Arthur pulls Merlin’s shirt up and runs his open palm across his stomach.

“Miss me?” Merlin jokes.

Arthur nips at his throat. “Something like that.”

Right then, Merlin’s stomach rumbles – _loud_.

Arthur laughs and pulls away. “Hungry?”

“Yeah … I didn’t eat lunch.”

“I was thinking about that – dinner, I mean, not lunch. Should we risk going out?”

“Er, why?”

Arthur shrugs. “I thought it might be nice to go to a restaurant with you. I doubt as many people will recognize me here since it’s not Chicago.”

“No, but there’s still eight million people in this city.”

“Yeah, but it’s just food. We wouldn’t be snogging at the table.”

“Think you have enough self-constraint to keep your mouth to yourself?” 

“Forget it,” Arthur says and retreats further in the room. Merlin grabs his wrist to stop him from walking away.

“Hold on.”

Arthur turns back around.

“When I’m home in Montréal, I can go anywhere and with anyone, because I’m not in the closet. Unless you’re prepared for more press releases about how being gay isn’t newsworthy, I don’t know if it’s worth the risk. There’s a change you’re right and no one would recognize you. Not everyone follows football – er, soccer – here.” Merlin shrugs. “But I don’t want to make things harder for you, either. If you’re ready to tell the world one day, then you’ll tell them.”

Arthur nods. “Right.” He seems to consider this. “Sucks, though, doesn’t it? Feels like I’m keeping you a secret.”

“Right, but I _am_ a secret. You’re a secret, too.”

“That’s true, I suppose.”

“Let’s order some room service and we’ll eat on that terrace.”

Arthur agrees.

They end up ordering way more food than they need and two bottles of wine. Merlin changes into pajama bottoms and a comfy t-shirt. He sits on one end of the outdoor sofa, a glass of wine in his hand, and his feet in Arthur’s lap. It’s so relaxing. Every few minutes Arthur kneads the bottom of Merlin’s feet with his fingers and run his hands up the back of his calves.

They pick at the food. Merlin doesn’t like soft cheese, so Arthur eats all of that, and Arthur doesn’t care for spinach, so the salad is all Merlin’s. They finish the first bottle of wine and move on to the second. Merlin feels warm and a little tingly. He hopes his mouth doesn’t betray him.

“Tell me about growing up in Canada,” Arthur asks.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Hmmm. Well, it’s cold. It snowed every year. I mean, I was born in Manitoba. Winnipeg technically. It’s cold there, too. But my mom struggled to be a single-mom so we moved to Montréal. It was closer to her parents. They died when I was a teenager. Now it’s my mom and my uncle. They’re both still in Montréal. My mom was a little eccentric so my childhood wasn’t typical. Have I ever told you she was a children’s book author?”

“Yeah, you told me her main character was a mouse.”

“Right, yeah – you remember that?” Merlin is impressed. “We pretended a lot of things when I was growing up. We pretended I was magic. And that our cat truly lived nine different lives and could transport himself into different periods of time. We’d make up stories about where he’d been. There were a few times we pretended it was the 1800s, but that only happened whenever my mom forgot to pay the electricity bill.”

“Wait – what?” Arthur looks taken aback. 

“We weren’t poor, but her brain wasn’t wired like other moms. I did a lot of the shopping for her, learned to cook. Things she couldn’t always do. The first time I lived on my own was when my boyfriend and I broke up. I went from her house to getting a flat with him and I only did that because my uncle said it was time for him to help her out. I don’t know where I’d be if he hadn’t given me the gift of freedom.”

“Wow. Jesus, that’s heavy.”

“She’s not crazy. I mean, she is, but she’s not mean or harmful or anything. She’s forgetful. She needs someone to help remind her to do things. She gets carried away with the stories she’s trying to tell. I don’t mean to make it sound bad. My uncle has his own life. He’s not chained to the house or anything.”

“Tell me about the boyfriend,” Arthur says. “Is he the only boyfriend you’ve ever had? I don’t even know his name.”

“I had a boyfriend when I was a teenager, maybe sixteen or seventeen. But the man I lived with … what do you want to know?”

“How’d you meet?

“University. We were in the same calculus class.”

“Did you ask him out?”

“He asked me,” answers Merlin. “We had a coffee date at Starbucks. We were together for over a year and then we moved in together. Six years and a half years after our first date, we broke up. He moved out. I still live in the same apartment.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“Things fell apart, I guess. Nothing specific happened. Fell out of love. Him first. Then me. I mean, he stopped loving me first.”

“What an idiot.”

“We still talk,” Merlin admits. “We talk a lot, actually. The first six or nine months we didn’t, but then I still had some of his books and he stopped by for them and we had dinner and now we’re friends. We go to dinner, call each other up.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

Merlin snorts. “Jealous?”

“Concerned.”

“What the hell is there to be concerned about?”

“If you decide to go back to him then I’ll have to find another fuck buddy.”

“Of course,” Merlin says tightly. He sits up straighter and removes his feet from Arthur’s lap.

“Where’re you going?”

“Nowhere. Right here. Can I have more wine?”

“Shit, I fucked it up, didn’t I? What’d I say? The part about fuck buddies?”

“No, it’s fine,” Merlin lies.

“It’s not. I didn’t mean – I was trying to be funny. I missed the mark.”

“Clearly.”

“In a different life, maybe we’d be at a restaurant instead of hiding out in a hotel room. Where my sexuality doesn’t matter and what team I’m part of doesn’t matter and distance doesn’t matter. In that life, I’d hold your hand while walking down the street.”

Merlin feels like he could melt into a giant pile of goo, but he holds all the feelings inside. “Thanks, but we’re in _this_ life where I can never be anything more to you than what I already am.”

Arthur takes the wine glass out of Merlin’s hand and puts it down on the table. He reaches for him, pulls him close.

Merlin feels his breath against his mouth as he says, “But right now, let’s focus on this. This right now. Fuck everything else. There’s still two more nights here and we can be whatever we want to be. There’s no one else but you right now.”

Merlin wants to push him away. Wants to tell him no, wants to stop this before he gets in any deeper and can no longer escape. But he doesn’t. He accepts Arthur’s kiss and lets him slowly work off his clothes. The air is a little chilly and his skin breaks out in gooseflesh, but Arthur’s body is warm and covers his. 

Merlin tries to stop thinking.

***

Their last night in New York they decide to get bold. Arthur puts on a beanie and a pair of sunglasses and they go to a club. Merlin doesn’t ever go to clubs – not with any frequency anyway. They choose one that is supposedly known for keeping things secretive. Security will take anyone’s phone if they’re caught taking photographs inside the club. 

Merlin is certain everything will go badly, but Arthur seems enthused. Really he thinks Arthur is trying to make up for calling him a fuck buddy. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. He knows that’s what he is – what they both are. They can’t afford to be anything else. 

The club is loud and dark and they take shots off a go-go dancer’s stomach. They dance together, grind, and even make out in the middle of a sea of male bodies. They’re thoroughly drunk and a little stupid and a security guard who recognizes Arthur tells him there are cabs waiting on the other side of the building, through the empty store next door, if they want to make an anonymous escape.

They get let out behind the hotel and go in the lobby separately. They take different elevators up to their room, but Arthur is waiting for Merlin as soon as the door opens. It starts out hurried and frenzied, as though this is their very last time and as though there were a time limit. Then something shifts and Arthur slows down. 

He stares down at Merlin and says, “So I’ve never,” and then, “I think I want you to. Just so I can see.”

Merlin wants to say no, it’s really not his thing, but he also knows Arthur wouldn’t be asking if there wasn’t an abundance of trust between them. So he does, first with slicked fingers and then when he’s inside. It’s as good as he remembers, but not as good as when Arthur is on top, yet he’s still glad for this. 

After Arthur seems reflective, a little pensive. Then he kisses Merlin and says, “Thank you.”

“I hope you didn’t like that better.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, not a chance.”

“Thank god,” Merlin laughs and then kisses him back.

***

**November 2014**

> **Merlin:** _Your fucking ad is in every magazine I open. I am literally reading The Boulevard Review which is a LITERARY magazine and L’Ovo which is a FRENCH magazine. Like why?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Adidas wants to make sure I’m everywhere I guess_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’d rather see your face between my legs than in every magazine I see._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Nugggggh_
> 
> **Arthur:** _That’s my favorite place for my face to be_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You’ve gotten vulgar since we first started hooking up I like it_
> 
> **Merlin:** _GIF_attached:All-the-eye-rolling_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You stole my fave gif_
> 
> **Merlin:** _GIF_attached:Middle-Finger_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Keepin’ it classy, aren’t you?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Your ad is part of a Buzzfeed quiz now._
> 
> **Arthur:** _LOLOLOLOL_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m going to FaceTime you & you better be naked when I do. It’s payment for all my suffering this week at the hands of your Adidas pictures._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m at Target_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Never mind leaving now_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I didn’t really need toilet paper anyway_

***

**December 2014**

> **Arthur:** _I’ll be in Vermont on Dec 20. Morgana gets in on the 22 but her plane lands at 6p & she’ll have to rent a car to get the rest of the way here_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I don’t think I can make it this year. A tree fell on my mom’s house so she’s staying with me until the roof is fixed._
> 
> **Arthur:** _How come this is the first time I’m hearing about this_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I don’t know?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Seems like the kind of thing you’d usually tell me about_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m not lying._
> 
> **Arthur:** _She can’t survive one night on her own?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Seems rude to leave her here by herself._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Merlin. You’re killing me_
> 
> **Arthur:** _When’s her roof getting fixed_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Two weeks I think_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _Ok I’ll be in Chicago why don’t you come visit_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll see what finances look like. I’m paying for the roof._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Uh hello? Home owners insurance?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Long story. It’s not covering it._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’ll pay for your plane ticket_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m not a charity case_
> 
> **Arthur:** _GIF_attached:Inside-Out-Anger-Exploding_
> 
> **Arthur:** _If you don’t want to see me just fucking say so_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Seriously? Nothing? No response?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Wtf merlin?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Whatever_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Sorry went to the movies and forgot my phone at home. Chill out._
> 
> **Merlin:** _I do want to see you, which is why I’m not coming_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _Answer your phone_
> 
> **Arthur:** _WTF do you mean you want to see me but that’s why you’re not coming to Vermont???_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I need to reanalyze some things. Figure some things out. I was never cut out for having a long-term affair. I had a boyfriend for 6 years. That’s what I think I’m ready for again. That’s not what you can give me._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m 850 miles away how can I give that to you??_
> 
> **Merlin:** _That’s my point. You can’t._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Answer your phone_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Fuuuuuuuuuck_

***

**January 2015**

> **Arthur:** _Happy New Year_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Happy MLK Day_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Happy National Compliment Day_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Happy National Draw a Dinosaur Day_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Happy Last Day of the First Month of the Year_

***

**February 2015**

**Preseason – Chicago**

**_Arthur_ **

“I can’t give you the room number.”

“I know that,” Arthur snaps, “but you can call his room and tell him I’m here.”

The concierge looks wary but picks up the phone. He taps something into the computer in front of him and then dials.

“Yes, hello, Mr. Emrys?” he says, glancing at Arthur. “There’s a man down in the lobby who says … uh huh … I’m not sure, I don’t watch … uh huh … yes, blonde hair … yes, hold on, sir.” The concierge holds the phone out to Arthur. “He’d like to speak to you.”

Arthur takes the phone happily. “Hey.”

“What the _fuck_ , Arthur?”

“What room are you in?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Yes, you are, because I won’t leave until you talk to me.” 

He hears Merlin groan loudly in his ear. “Fine. Thirty-two-oh-four. I swear to fucking god.”

The line clicks and Arthur hands the phone back to the clerk. “Thanks. Sorry to bother you about it.”

“Mmmm,” the concierge hums noncommittally. 

Arthur takes the elevator to the thirty-second floor and follows the signs to 3204. He knocks on the door but keeps his head down in case any of Montreal’s team start to come or go out of their rooms

When the door opens, Arthur opens his mouth to say hello, but it’s not Merlin.

“Is this not Merlin’s room?”

“You don’t recognize me?”

Arthur blinks. “Yeah, sure. You’re, uh … shit. You’re the goalkeeper for Montreal.”

“Leon.”

“Right.”

“Hmmm. You’re not as charming as I thought you’d be, but I guess come on in before anyone else sees you.”

Leon steps aside and lets Arthur in.

Merlin stands by the window. He has on jeans and a team polo shirt. His feet are bare. He looks the same but somehow better. Arthur wonders if Leon is here on purpose so that Merlin can avoid having a conversation with him.

“Ready for the game tomorrow?” Leon asks. “I’ve been watching your game footage from last year. You favor the left side of the net.”

“No, I don’t.”

Leon grins. “Are you sure?”

Arthur pauses. “Are you trying to psych me out?”

Leon shrugs. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Do you mind giving me and Merlin a moment alone?”

“I was going to go get some nachos at the Mexican restaurant across the street.” Leon looks at Merlin as he ties his sneakers. “Is this sock-on-the-doorknob kind of situation? Should I call before I come back in?”

“No,” says Merlin, but he looks miserable as he says it.

“Are you sure?”

“Hold on,” Arthur says. He turns to Leon. “You know? Like you _know_ know?”

“Yeah, for a while now. Merlin didn’t know how to turn off text-preview on his phone. You’re really dirty, you know that?”

Arthur frowns. “Seriously? I can’t believe you know.”

“Why’d you think Merlin was okay with me being here when you came up?”

“I don’t know. I could be here for any number of reasons.”

Leon snorts. “Yeah, right. What was your cover story going to be? That you’re trying to recruit us?”

“I mean, that’s plausible, isn’t it?”

Leon shakes his head side to side. “Maybe. Our contracts are up for renewal, so I guess it’s possible, but you’re a player. They don’t send players to recruit members of other teams.”

“Right,” says Arthur.

“Have fun,” Leon says before grabbing his jacket and leaving the room.

Arthur’s eyes widen at Merlin. “For real? You told him?”

Merlin is quiet.

Arthur isn’t sure what to do with his hands or his feet. He wants to walk across the carpet and pull Merlin into his arms, kiss his mouth, but clearly that’s not what Merlin wants.

“So one day we’re jacking off over FaceTime and then you’re telling me you can’t come to Vermont and then you’re completely ghosting me? What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says wretchedly. “I know what it looks like, but one day it all came crashing down and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Is this a I Wish I Knew How to Quit You moment?”

Merlin lets out a laugh. “Maybe not that tragic.”

Arthur nods. “Right. So the last two years—”

“Were great, but it’s time.”

Arthur steps forward. “Merlin, I can’t change—”

“I’m not asking you to change anything. Hooking up every few months isn’t me. It’s made me realize that I want a relationship. I want someone I can depend on and lean on and I want someone who wants those things from me, too.”

“I depend on you. I lean on you.”

“Over the phone, sure. But that’s not a relationship. I want someone to fall in love with me. I want someone to fall in love _with_.”

Ah, Arthur thinks, there it is. The thing he’s really known all along. Merlin wants someone to fall in love with, and clearly that person isn’t him. Could never be him.

“Right,” Arthur says. “Yeah, of course.” He takes another step forward. He reaches for Merlin and Merlin doesn’t resist. “Just let me say goodbye, okay? And I won’t bother you again.” He closes the gap and brings their mouths together.

Merlin arches into him and Arthur tangles his fingers in Merlin’s hair. He wonders if Merlin will let him push this further. If this is going to be the last time, he has to try. He carefully lifts up Merlin’s shirt and pulls it over his head. He wants to make a joke, wants to remind him to put a sock on the doorknob, but he doesn’t want to break whatever this is, this last time.

When he pushes into Merlin, he presses kisses into his back and his shoulders and wonders what he could say that would make him agree to keep things the way they were. What could he do to make Merlin decide he was someone worth falling in love with? Instead, he just muffles all his words against Merlin’s skin and stays quiet.

***

**March 2015**

> **Arthur:** _Link: LA Galaxy Seeks New Goalkeeper Coach_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Why are you sending this to me?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Leon said your contract was up this year_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I see._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Better weather than Canada. No snow_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I like the snow._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Of course you do_
> 
> **Arthur:** _there’s earthquakes in California so maybe not a good choice_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No I’ll keep the snow if earthquakes is the other option. I like the cold._
> 
> **Arthur:** _a lot of nice cities are cold_

***

**April 2015**

> **Arthur:** _Link: New York Red Bulls Fire Assistant Coach_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Here’s an opening for you & there are no earthquakes_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Don’t they play in New Jersey?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Do they? Gross ok_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Gwaine told me our goalkeeper coach is leaving at the end of the season_
> 
> **Arthur:** _They’re going to post a job posting in a few months_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Why are you telling me this?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You wouldn’t want to come to Chicago?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I guess the question is do YOU want me in Chicago?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Of course I do_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Why?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _B/c the sex is great & we should be together more_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Is that all you want?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll take your silence as a yes._

*******

**May 2015**

> **Arthur:** _You are the most infuriating person I think ive ever met. Will you answer your goddamn phone?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _GIF_attached:All-the-eye-rolling_

***

**June 2015**

**Game #12 – Chicago**

**_Arthur_ **

Somehow – and he really has no idea how – he got Merlin to agree to come over to his apartment. He has plans to talk to him, to lay his heart out on the table. He wants Merlin to come to Chicago. It’s still in the rumor-stage about their goalkeeper coach, but if that’s a reality, he wants Merlin to apply, he _needs_ Merlin to apply.

He paces back and forth waiting for Merlin to knock on his door and when he hears it, his heart stops. He opens the door with a deep breath and steps aside so Merlin can walk in. 

“You look good,” Arthur says.

Merlin walks further into his apartment and then stands next to the kitchen. He leans against the counter. “Thanks.” He crosses his arms and then releases them. He shoves his hands in pockets. He looks as though he isn’t sure what to do.

“Thanks for coming over.”

“I figured you wouldn’t stop harassing me until I did.”

“You can look me in the eye, you know.”

Merlin glances up and his cheeks redden. “Sorry … I feel awkward.”

“Why? I’ve literally eaten you out – I think we are beyond the awkward stage by now.”

“That was physical. I think we’re talking about things on a different level now, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Arthur is surprised by this. He thought he was going to be the only one saying anything of substance tonight.

“Maybe I was wrong.”

“No, no, tell me what you want to tell me.”

Merlin shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“What if – what if you told me in French?”

Merlin’s eyes widen a little bit. “Really? Why?”

“You’d say whatever it is you want to say and you can see how it feels to say it. And then if you feel better, maybe you can tell me in English.”

“Uh, okay.” He clears his throat. “ _Tu m’as manquée_.”

Arthur takes a step forward. He loves listening to Merlin speak in French. It’s beautiful and it flows from him so naturally.

“ _Je pense à toi tout les temps. Je suis désolé.._.” Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “… _mais_ _je suis presque sûr que je suis amoureux de toi._ “ 

He has no idea what Merlin just said, but whatever it was broke him and he can no longer remember why he wanted Merlin to come over in the first place.

“Fuck it,” Arthur says and with one quick step, he’s in Merlin’s space, kissing his mouth. He expects Merlin to push him away, but instead Merlin kisses him back.

His fingers dig into Merlin’s hips, just under his shirt, and he feels himself grow hard. He lifts up Merlin’s shirt and pulls it over his head. His mouth latches onto Merlin’s collarbone, then kisses his way down his chest. He sinks to his knees and undoes the buckle to Merlin’s belt. He struggles with the zipper of his jeans, his hands a little shaky, but he gets it. He works the jeans off Merlin’s hips and lets them fall down around his ankles. His hands make quick work of Merlin’s shoes, and then he’s helping Merlin step out of his pants. All he’s left with are Merlin’s boxers.

He tongues him through the cotton fabric and then pulls on the elastic until that, too, has been discarded. When he returns his mouth to Merlin, he remembers how much he loved this, all the times before. One of Merlin’s hands softly cups his face, as though telling him he’s doing a good job. Arthur takes him as deep as he can. Saliva drips out of the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t wipe it away. His hands curl around Merlin’s hips, bringing him impossibly closer.

Merlin pulls back and says, “Can I come with you in me?”

Arthur’s heart skips three beats. He stands up and takes Merlin’s hand and leads him down the hallway to his bedroom. He undresses and tosses his clothes on the floor. Merlin is already at his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a box of condoms and the lube. 

Arthur sits on the middle of the bed and motions for Merlin to come to him. He lets Merlin roll the condom on and then he takes the lube, slicks his fingers, and then reaches for Merlin. He positions Merlin so that his knees are on either side of his hips. Merlin is right in front of him, kneeling, and kisses his chest as he begins to work his fingers inside him.

Merlin closes his eyes and starts to rock his hips. He moans and grips Arthur’s shoulders tightly.

When Arthur thinks Merlin is ready he says, “Sit down.” Merlin sinks down onto him, taking him all the way in, and then wraps his legs around him, hooking his ankles together behind Arthur’s back. Arthur holds him in place, hands under his thighs. He pushes up, Merlin pushes down, and they slowly grind together.

“Kiss me,” Arthur whispers.

Merlin does and the kiss is deep and wet. He keeps moaning against Arthur’s mouth. Then he gasps and says, “Oh shit – don’t stop.”

One of Arthur’s hands travels up until he’s cupping Merlin’s chin and he asks, “Will you look at me? I want to watch you come.”

Merlin opens his eyes and blinks. They look at each other and it’s almost too much. Merlin’s eyes grow cloudy with arousal. Arthur can see the pleasure, see the heavy blink every time he fucks up into him. This is the most intimate they’ve ever been and Arthur can’t figure out why his heart feels like it’s somewhere in the middle of his throat instead of his chest.

Merlin throws his head back comes with a loud, throaty moan. Arthur watches him and loses his rhythm for half a second before grasping the back of Merlin’s head and pulling him forward for a kiss. They kiss as Arthur, deep inside Merlin, fills the condom. They remain like that, facing one another, coming down from their sex-induced high.

Arthur carefully slips out and ties off the condom. He gets up to throw it in the rubbish bin in his bathroom and grab a warm washcloth to clean them both up. 

“That was intense,” he says, chancing the truth.

Merlin nods. “I didn’t think I was coming here for that.”

“I know. I wanted to talk, but when you speak French something kind of breaks in me. It’s so fucking hot.” He finishes cleaning Merlin up and tosses the cloth on top of his pile of discarded clothes. He sits on the bed opposite Merlin and takes hold of his hands. “I feel like that was what people mean when they say, you know … making love.” His pulse pumps loudly between his ears. He looks at their entwined fingers instead of at Merlin.

“You can’t say shit like that to me.”

“Why?”

“Not if you don’t mean it.”

“I’m trying to figure it all out,” Arthur admits. “I haven’t been with anyone else since before New York.”

Merlin immediately looks as though he might be sick. “Really?”

“Really. At first I wanted to, to prove that I could still come home with anyone I wanted, but I couldn’t find anyone who seemed interesting enough. And then I stopped trying.” 

Merlin swallows hard and wets his mouth with his tongue and says, “I never thought that day would come.”

“You look weird. What’s wrong?” Arthur pauses. “Are you – are you sleeping with other people?”

Merlin stays quiet.

“I guess I can’t be upset, we aren’t in a – we aren’t anything.” He gets off the bed and goes to his chest of drawers and pulls out a new pair of boxers. “How many guys?”

“Not a lot. I was trying to put myself out there. You know, find someone I wanted to maybe date. A couple.”

“Right, no, of course. You should!” Arthur knows he’s saying it too forcefully. “You should be happy. Find someone you can fall in love with.”

“Arthur, I—”

“It’s okay, I promise. I’ll go get your clothes, they’re still in the other room.”

But Merlin follows him down the hallway. “Wait, stop!”

Arthur picks up Merlin’s clothes off the floor by his kitchen and practically thrusts them into Merlin’s arms. “Here.”

“I asked you if all you wanted was sex and you never responded. I’ve been saying for months that I need to get on with my life and find someone who wants to be in a relationship with me.” Merlin starts to get dressed. “You never said anything! You never said if you wanted anything more from me. What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for you to text me? Maybe have sex every few months?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Arthur says. 

Merlin finishes dressing and shoves his feet in his shoes. “Okay, well, this is your big chance. Tell me what you brought me here to say. Tell me everything.”

Arthur opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it. Merlin’s phone begins to vibrate and he pulls it out of his pocket. “It’s the club,” he says. He answers the phone and steps back down the hallway. 

“I miss you,” Arthur says to no one. “I think I’m probably in love with you. I’m scared to death. I don’t want you to leave again.” His pulse races. He’s said it, he’s said it out loud and nothing bad happened, Merlin just wasn’t in the same room to hear.

When he reenters the room, he’s still on the phone, but he ends the call rather quickly. 

“Sorry, I have to go. Player drama.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“We’ll have to finish talking next game.”

“That’s two months away.”

Merlin shrugs and starts to walk towards the front door. “I know, but what else do you suggest?”

Arthur wants to yell at him to stay here now. Fuck player drama, he wants Merlin here, in his apartment, in Chicago.

“Uhh …” Arthur responds instead. He knows he’s being an idiot, but he can’t make his mouth work. He keeps picturing Merlin going on dates and being with other men. Does he look as beautiful when he comes for them? Maybe he prefers them better. Maybe they’re willing to give Merlin what Arthur’s been too afraid to give.

Merlin rolls his eyes and lets himself out of Arthur’s apartment. 

***

**July 2015**

> **Arthur:** _I’m an idiot_
> 
> **Merlin** : _I’m aware._
> 
> **Merlin:** _But also why do you think that?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I should’ve made you stay & talk last week when you were here_
> 
> **Merlin** : _What would you have said?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m not sure exactly_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I would’ve told you that it hurt to hear you say you’ve slept with other people_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I didn’t tell you that to hurt you._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I know_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I would’ve told you that I don’t know how to make any of this work & I have no idea what I’m doing _
> 
> **Arthur:** _and I would’ve told you that I want things to go back the way they were before & I think you want more than that & I’m willing to give you whatever you need if we can go back_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I don’t want to go back. That’s the problem. I don’t want to be anyone’s casual hookup anymore._
> 
> **Arthur:** _that’s not what I meant!!_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Then be very clear. What do YOU want?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I just want you_
> 
> **Arthur:** _idk how to make that any clearer but I think I’m fucking up my words can you call me?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No I_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Sorry, I pressed send too soon. I meant No, I don’t want to call you. This conversation needs to happen in person. Lay all the cards out on the table kind of conversation. Come over when you’re here for the next game._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Ok. I’ll text you when I’m free. I think it’s a short visit but I should be able to do a couple of hours after the game_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Whatever works._

***

> **Arthur:** _Link: Buzzfeed List 15 reasons why we love Arthur Pendragon_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Did you write that list yourself? I can personally verify that your sex hair does NOT look like that last picture. Where did that even come from?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No idea_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Link: Buzzfeed List 22 pictures that illustrate why Canadian footballers are hotter than American soccer players_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You’re making this shit up now_
> 
> **Merlin:** _That byline isn’t by me! Legit article and Buzzfeed is totally reputable_.

***

**September 2015**

**Game #22 –** **Montréal**

**_Merlin_ **

When Merlin turns on to Rue Saint Pierre, he is relieved. Finally back at his own home. He wants nothing more than to take this giant box out of his car, put it in his living room, drink half a bottle of whisky, and get plastered. He sent a text to Arthur earlier that went unanswered. Merlin isn’t really surprised; there was a game that he missed.

> **Merlin** : _I know we planned for you to come over, but I had a family emergency. I know it sounds made up, but I promise the reason is real. I want to see you. Maybe I can come to Chicago or you can come here once the season is over._

He parks behind his building and grabs the box and makes his way upstairs to his apartment. The box is full of papers and a bottle of whisky so it’s heavy, but it feels more impossible to carry than it should. Merlin hasn’t slept more than four hours a night for the last week. It’s catching up to him. He wants to die a little.

Truthfully, he wanted to see Arthur. He wanted to clear the air. He was prepared to tell Arthur how he really felt, prepared to have his heart broken. Arthur said he wanted to be with him like they used to be – which Merlin thinks means the regular hookups. He knows Merlin wants more and wants to give him whatever he needs. Except Arthur hasn’t really said what _Arthur_ feels and his words are never conveyed well over texts or iMessage. But at the end of the day, they live thirteen-hundred kilometers apart and Arthur is the clear leader of Chicago’s team; he’ll never get traded.

Merlin shifts the box in his arm as he gets off the elevator and and goes towards his front door. 

“What the--?” He stops and stares. 

Arthur sits in front of his apartment, his back against the door, obviously waiting on him. When he sees Merlin he quickly stands.

“ _Bonjour_ ,” Arthur says, although it sounds like more bon-jer than bonne-jour, which makes Merlin smile the first smile he’s had in days. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice low. “What’re you doing here?”

“You missed the game.” Arthur goes to take the box out of Merlin’s arms. “Here, let me take that.”

Merlin takes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks his apartment. He lets Arthur go in first.

“I was going to put that in the living room.”

Arthur puts the box on the coffee table as Merlin shuts the door behind them.

“I don’t know if I have it in me to talk tonigh—”

“I’m not here to talk about anything,” Arthur interrupts. “Leon told me what happened.”

“Oh.”

“You could’ve said.”

Merlin shrugs. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to do anything. I’m dealing.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his tone exasperated, “your mom _died_. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not alone. I stayed with my uncle at my mom’s house the last few days, but I couldn’t take it there anymore, I—” Merlin stops talking and clamps his mouth shut. He can feel the tears rise and pool in the bottom of his eyes. 

Arthur crosses the room and tries to pull Merlin in for a hug.

“Don’t,” Merlin warns. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll end up crying.”

“That’s okay. Crying won’t scare me away. I lost my mom once, too, you know. I know what it feels like.”

Merlin swallows against a giant lump in his throat. “Right.” He lets his body relax and get pulled against Arthur’s. As soon as he feels the familiar arms around him, he lets the tears fall from his eyes. He has no idea how long he stands there, letting Arthur hold him.

Arthur doesn’t say anything, but his embrace doesn’t falter. He rubs small circles into Merlin’s back and keeps his arms strong. Merlin is certain he’d collapse without those arms.

When he thinks there are no more tears, he pulls back. He wipes at his eyes and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Then he goes to the box and pulls out the bottle of whisky. “If you’re staying, we’re drinking.”

Arthur nods. “Yeah. I’m here. I don’t have to go back to the hotel. I already asked Gwaine to make sure my bags get on the bus.”

Merlin sets the bottle down on the coffee table. “Oh, right, glasses.”

“Sit down,” Arthur instructs. “I’ll get them.”

Merlin falls back onto the sofa and waits. Arthur comes into the room with two mismatched glasses and opens the whisky. He pours a generous amount in both and hands one to Merlin before sitting next to him.

“Should we toast?”

“To what?”

“To moms,” Arthur says. “For giving us life. For loving us. For leaving us even though they didn’t want to. But for still watching over us.”

“You really believe that?”

“My mom really liked daisies and whenever I’m feeling really sad about something, I’ll always find a daisy somewhere. Two weeks ago when we lost that game against the Red Bulls, I was super pissed, but when I got home, someone had done-up a huge vase of daisies in the lobby. It may seem silly, but I’d like to think she was letting me know she was there.”

Merlin feels the tears prickle again, but he swallows them back and nods. “Cheers,” he says, and downs half his glass.

“Are we going through the box?” Arthur asks.

“We?”

“I mean, I’m here. I’d like to help however I can.”

“It’s a box of my mom’s random ideas. Story ideas. Some sketches. Maybe some photographs, but mostly stories. I don’t know. I suppose I thought going through it would be nice.”

“Wow, these are all your mom’s stories?”

“Unpublished. Yes.”

“I’d be honored to get to read some of them.”

“They’re about a mouse named Marco. Not exactly Pulitzer prize kind of stuff here.”

Arthur puts his glass down on the coffee table and opens the box. He pulls out a small stack of papers bound together by thick twine. He undoes the knot. “Do you want me to read it out loud?”

Merlin shrugs. “Sure.”

“I can’t … they’re all in French.” Arthur flips through the pages. “All of them.” 

Merlin takes a stack from him. “ _Une Souris Appelée Marco et Le Prince_.”

“Is that one she published?” Arthur asks.

“No.” Merlin looks at the pages. He flips through them again, stopping at each sketch. His mom never illustrated the books herself, but she often drew little doodles that helped her see what she was trying to write. 

“Is it too hard to translate?”

Merlin shrugs. “Not really, I guess.”

“I’ve never read any of your mom’s books, but if it’s too much, maybe you could read them in French and tell me what they say some other time.”

“They’re just silly stories.”

“Yeah, but they’re your mom’s stories. You came home with that box to go through it, right?”

Merlin nods. “My uncle wanted to read them with me, but, I don’t know, I didn’t want to share them. All her stories were such a big part of my childhood and I wanted them to myself.” He looks at Arthur. “I don’t mind if you hear them, though,” he adds. “I think maybe … maybe it would be nice to have someone know one of her stories for the first time.”

“I’d like that,” Arthur says.

“All right, then.” Merlin looks back at the page. His mom’s curly handwriting fills the papers. “Here goes nothing.”

Arthur places a hand on the inside of Merlin’s thigh and waits.

“ _Une Souris Appelée Marco et Le Prince_. A Mouse Named Marco and The Prince. _Marco vit à l'orée d'une forêt_ …”

> **_Marco lives on the edge of a forest. From his front door he can see the castle. It has four towers and lots of windows. Marco wonders what it would be like to look out one of those high windows at the very top and see the entire kingdom and forest below._ **
> 
> **_Once a week Marco goes with Mama and his sister to the castle to sell their cheeses. Mama makes the king and queen’s favorite cheese in all the land. This day, the queen stops Mama and invites them all to a ball they’re having for the prince._ **
> 
> **_“Our son is old enough to marry,” the queen says. “We are having a party to find him a princess.”_ **
> 
> **_Mama accepts the invitation. They will come back next week dressed in their party clothes._ **
> 
> **_As they walk back to their house on the edge of the forest, Marco asks, “Why does the prince have to find a princess?”_ **
> 
> **_“So he can marry,” she says._ **
> 
> **_“Does he have to be in love to get married?”_ **
> 
> **_“Yes. The king and queen are having a ball so the prince can meet everyone in the kingdom and find a princess to fall in love with. Your sister is old enough to marry, so she will get to meet the prince, too.”_ **
> 
> **_“I hope he finds someone he loves as much as you love Papa.”_ **
> 
> **_Marco’s mom smiles. “I hope he does, too.”_ **
> 
> **_The next week Marco helps Mama with the cheese and practices his sword fighting with his sister Maisy. They learned how to use swords when they were aboard a pirate ship last summer. Maisy thinks the prince will be impressed with her sword skills._ **
> 
> **_“Do you really want to be a princess?” Marco asks._ **
> 
> **_“Princesses can wear silk gowns and crowns of jewels,” Maisy says. “Princesses are beautiful and I want to be beautiful.”_ **
> 
> **_“I think you already are beautiful,” Marco tells her._ **
> 
> **_The day of the ball Marco’s father helps him tie his bow tie and comb his hair. He shows him how to curl his tail so it looks prim and proper. Marco has never been in any of the ballrooms at the castle so he’s excited._ **
> 
> **_The ball reminds Marco of his sister’s last birthday party, only ten times bigger. There is a table full of food and cakes. Balloons and flowers decorate the rest of the room. Mice dance on the dance floor._ **
> 
> **_“How come we didn’t have a party for me when I became of marrying age?” Marco asks._ **
> 
> **_“You’re not a prince,” Papa says._ **
> 
> **_The king and queen walk around the ballroom with the prince at their side. They introduce him to everyone in the room. When they stop at Mama and Papa and Maisy, Marco stares at the prince._ **
> 
> **_He has on a crown and a blue jacket. He is standing up straight and smiles when the queen says, “They sell us the best cheese in the kingdom.”_ **
> 
> **_The prince kisses both of Mama’s cheeks. Marco frowns. Only Papa and Marco and Maisy should get to kiss Mama’s cheeks._ **
> 
> **_The prince talks to Maisy and she tells him about her sword fighting. He looks impressed. The king and queen tell him there are more mice to meet, but the prince stops in front of Marco and asks, “What is your name?”_ **
> 
> **_“I’m Marco. What’s yours?” Marco blushes because he knows the prince’s name so he doesn’t know why he asked that!_ **
> 
> **_“Prince Emmett.”_ **
> 
> **_“I hope you find a princess tonight, Prince Emmett.”_ **
> 
> **_“Thank you.”_ **
> 
> **_They enjoy the party. Prince Emmett dances with Maisy once. Marco watches them. The prince looks a little sad. Marco wonders if it is because he didn’t find anyone to fall in love with tonight._ **
> 
> **_The ball ends and everyone goes home. Marco dreams about the music and the cakes._ **
> 
> **_The next week, Mama and Maisy are invited back to the castle for another ball. The king and queen want to try again and find a princess for Prince Emmett. Marco asks if he can go to the ball too._ **
> 
> **_Papa says, “Why don’t you escort your sister? Give your Mama and I a night to rest.”_ **
> 
> **_Marco agrees and the night of the ball, he walks Maisy down the lane towards the castle. This ball is much like the last one. Now that Prince Emmett knows everyone’s name, he walks around the ballroom on his own._ **
> 
> **_When he comes over to Maisy and Marco, he kisses both of Maisy’s cheeks._ **
> 
> **_“Thank you for coming back,” Prince Emmett says. He turns to Marco. “Do you have sword fighting skills, too?”_ **
> 
> **_“Yes, we learned aboard a pirate ship last summer.”_ **
> 
> **_“What else do you know how to do?”_ **
> 
> **_“We learned how to paint in Italy and how to build pyramids in Egypt. We traveled all over the world with Mama and Papa.”_ **
> 
> **_“Can you tell me more?” the Prince asks._ **
> 
> **_So Marco does. He tells him about all the adventures they’ve had. He lets Maisy tell him about finding a treasure map and waking a sleeping dragon. Prince Emmett finds their stories great fun._ **
> 
> **_At the end of the ball, Marco realizes that Prince Emmett has spent most of his evening talking to him and Maisy. Maybe Maisy will be a princess after all._ **
> 
> **_When they walk back to the house at the edge of the forest, Marco feels sad. He doesn’t want Maisy to be a princess, but he feels guilty. If Maisy thinks she would be happy living in a castle then he should be happy for her._ **
> 
> **_The next week when they go to sell their cheese, the prince is there with the king and queen. He asks if Marco can come on a walk with him. Mama tells him to have fun._ **
> 
> **_Prince Emmett shows Marco the grounds of the castle and even takes him to the highest tower so he can see the entire kingdom._ **
> 
> **_“I want to hear more about your adventures,” Prince Emmett says._ **
> 
> **_“Okay, but will you tell me about some of your adventures, too?” Marco asks._ **
> 
> **_They spend the day exchanging stories and when the sun dips down behind the forest, Marco walks home._ **
> 
> **_Mama has dinner ready and everyone is waiting for him to start to eat._ **
> 
> **_“Did you have a good time with the prince?” Papa asks._ **
> 
> **_“Yes. Although if he wants to marry Maisy, he shouldn’t spend so much time with me,” Marco says._ **
> 
> **_“Did he say he wants to marry Maisy?” Mama asks._ **
> 
> **_“No,” Marco says. “Does he have to marry a princess? What happens if he wants to marry a prince instead?”  
>  “Do you want to marry Prince Emmett?” Papa asks Marco._ **
> 
> **_“Is that allowed?”_ **
> 
> **_Mama gives Marco a hug. “It’s okay to want to marry the prince. He’s a very handsome mouse.”_ **
> 
> **_“I don’t think I want to live in the castle,” Maisy says. “I’d rather make cheese.”_ **
> 
> **_There is a third and final ball the next week. Marco and Maisy dress in their party clothes, but this time Mama and Papa come too. Marco smiles when he sees Prince Emmett, but still doesn’t like it when he kisses Mama’s and Maisy’s cheeks._ **
> 
> **_At the end of the ball, the king and queen make an announcement. “Our son has finally decided on a princess to marry!” the king cries. “Emmett, can you let us all know who you’ve chosen?”_ **
> 
> **_Prince Emmett stands in the middle of the ballroom. “Yes, Father. I have chosen … Marco Mouse.”_ **
> 
> **_The ballroom is silent and heads turn to seek out Marco in the crowd. He takes a step forward and then another and then he’s also standing in the middle of the ballroom, right in front of Prince Emmett._ **
> 
> **_“Marco, I have chosen you, if you will have me,” Prince Emmett says._ **
> 
> **_“You can’t choose Marco!” the queen shouts. “Marco is a boy! He can’t be a princess.”_ **
> 
> **_“You told me to find someone to fall in love with and marry. Why does it have to be a princess?” Prince Emmett asks._ **
> 
> **_“Princes marrying princesses is tradition,” the queen says. “Princes marrying other princes has never been done.”_ **
> 
> **_“Maybe we should change history,” Prince Emmett says._ **
> 
> **_“Tradition is more important,” says the queen._ **
> 
> **_“Wait!” Papa cries. He fights his way through the crowd of mice until he’s standing next to Marco. “It is tradition to be in love with the mouse you marry,” Papa says. “If Prince Emmett loves Marco and Marco loves Prince Emmett, then that is also tradition.”_ **
> 
> **_“It’s just not done!” says the queen._ **
> 
> **_“But is it wrong?” Papa asks._ **
> 
> **_The king clasps his hands together and seems to be deep in thought. “My dear, if our son and Marco Mouse are in love, shouldn’t we let them be happy?”_ **
> 
> **_The queen looks at Marco. “I hear you are a good swordsman.”_ **
> 
> **_“Yes, I learned from pirates. I can protect Prince Emmett.”_ **
> 
> **_“I also hear you are a skilled painter.”_ **
> 
> **_“Yes, I learned from real artists. I can teach Prince Emmett.”_ **
> 
> **_“I also hear you built pyramids.”_ **
> 
> **_“Yes, I learned from the Egyptians. I can build a home for Prince Emmett.”_ **
> 
> **_The queen seems satisfied. She turns to all the mice in the ballroom and announces, “Please join me in celebrating the courtship of Prince Emmett and Marco Mouse!”_ **
> 
> **_The ballroom cheers and Marco and Prince Emmett hug._ **
> 
> **_It may look a little different than the traditions Mama and Papa, and the king and queen are used to, but Marco and the prince love each other._ **
> 
> **_And that’s the story of how a mouse named Marco married a prince._ **

“Your mom wrote a gay children’s story,” Arthur says. 

“It’s a little more simplistic than most of her stories.”

“It’s probably a first draft. Merlin. She probably wrote that for you. Wouldn’t you have killed to have had a children’s story about a boy who loved another boy? All the fairy tales out there are about kings and queens or knights and princesses. _None_ of them are about princes who love other princes. Or knights who rescue princes and fall in love with them.”

Merlin holds the pages to his chest. “I miss her. I wish I could’ve read this when she was alive.” He looks at Arthur. “You’re right – I would’ve wanted a Prince Emmett growing up. I didn’t ever think I could, you know? Even when I was older and out, there weren’t any gay fairy tales. It would have been nice to have one.”

Arthur pushes Merlin’s hair away from his eyes. Merlin leans into the touch. A few new tears leak from his eyes.

“Thank you for translating,” Arthur says. 

“You should learn French,” Merin replies.

“I’ve learned some. I got a Rosetta Stone.”

“What?”

“My accent isn’t very good, though. I can say a few things.”

“I’m not counting _Voulez-vous coucher avec moi_ as a French phrase you know.”

Arthur laughs. “No, not that one. Do you want to read another story?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No. If I read another one I’ll probably cry again.”

“Do you want to go to bed? You look exhausted.”

“I haven’t slept much. Or at all.” 

“I can stay if you want,” Arthur offers.

Merlin’s heart speeds up. “Stay? All night?”

“If you want me to, yes.” Then, seeming to reconsider his words, Arthur adds, “I want to stay with you, but your mom died so I want to do whatever will make you feel better.”

“Stay,” Merlin confirms. “I’m tired. I think I’ve cried myself into exhaustion today.”

Arthur stands and holds out a hand. Merlin takes it and allows Arthur to pull him up. Being this sweet and caring seems to be natural for Arthur. Once they’re in Merlin’s bedroom, he lets Arthur undress him. He climbs into bed and gets under the blankets. Arthur takes off his jeans and shirt and slides under the covers. He finds Merlin and pulls him close.

“Will you tell me some of the things you learned to say in French?”

“I thought you were exhausted?” Arthur laughs.

Merlin buries his head under Arthur’s chin. “I still want to hear.”

“All right. _Je m’appelle Arthur_.” It sounds like _Jem apple Arthur_.

“That’s good,” Merlin says. “What else?” He closes his eyes.

“ _Je t’aime_.”

Merlin freezes. His heart completely stops beating. Arthur’s accent is terrible, so maybe he misheard. “Do you – do you know what that means?”

“ _Oui_.”

Merlin wants to say it back, wants to tell him, but as soon he he opens his mouth, he starts to cry.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Arthur shifts until he’s leaning over Merlin. He cups Merlin’s face in his hands and tries to wipe the tears away with his thumbs. “Please stop.”

Merlin nods, and the tears lessen but don’t go away completely. He grabs hold of Arthur’s face and brings him in close. He kisses his mouth and pushes his hips up to meet Arthur’s.

“Say it – say it in English.”

“I love you,” Arthur says.

Merlin’s heart stops beating again. “ _Je t’aime, je t’aime_ ,” he says. “ _Baise-moi._ ”

“What does that mean? Oh, god, did you say something dirty in French?”

Merlin nods. “Fuck me.”

Arthur softens. “I didn’t come here for that. We don’t have to—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin pushes his hips up again and grinds against Arthur’s thigh. “I need you to. Today was too much. Funeral stuff and then that box, but then you were here and reading the stories suddenly seemed more bearable and – please?”

Arthur groans and then kisses Merlin, hard and deep.

***

When Merlin wakes up the next morning, he’s still wrapped around Arthur. He fumbles around his bedside table to find his phone so he can see the time. It’s almost nine o’clock. He has a dozen missed calls and texts from various friends and family, but he doesn’t look at any of it. Instead, he buries himself as much against Arthur as he can get.

Arthur stirs, too, and when he opens his eyes and looks at Merlin, his cheeks flush.

“Don’t get awkward,” Merlin warns.

“I’m not.” He kisses Merlin’s shoulder. “I have to go,” he says. “I have get on a flight to Boston.”

“What do you mean?”

“The team left on the bus last night.”

Merlin bolts up. “What?” he cries. “You missed the bus?”

“It’s okay.”

“Were you always planning that?”

“No,” Arthur admits. “I thought I’d be able to meet it before it left, but then you … I didn’t want to go. Gwaine found me a plane ticket for today. The game isn’t until tomorrow so it should be okay.”

Merlin shakes his head. “You shouldn’t risk your career for me.”

“My position on the team is fine.” Arthur grabs his wrist and pulls him down on top of him. “Do we have time to talk? I had a whole list of things to say.”

“It’s nine. Do you have time?”

Arthur groans. “No.”

“Do you have your passport?”

“Yeah, pocket of my jeans.” He runs his fingers through Merlin’s hair and then down his neck and across his shoulders. “I meant what I said last night,” he says softly. “I don’t know what were supposed to do to make any of this work and I don’t know what any of it will even look like. I don’t even know when I’ll get to see you again.”

“Right.”

“That’s what I was hoping to figure out.”

“I’ll come to Vermont, if you want me to.”

Arthur grins. “Yeah?”

Merlin nods.

“I’d like that. Thank you. I need to shower so I can get to the airport. Are you staying in bed?”

Merlin nods again. As much as he’d like to shower with Arthur, he doesn’t want to leave the blankets. Arthur kisses his shoulder again and gets up. Merlin grabs his phone and goes through his texts. He doesn’t respond to any of them, but he at least gets rid of all the red bubble notifications.

When Arthur finishes his shower, he comes back into Merlin’s room to dry off and redress. Merlin sits on the edge of the bed and watches him. He has so many conflicting feelings. He’s so happy Arthur told him he loved him. He had no idea hearing _je t’aime_ would feel so good. But at the same time, what was he supposed to do with that information now? They didn’t get the chance to talk about anything, to talk about how they could make a relationship work between them. And now it could be another two months before he sees Arthur again, which only makes him sad.

Once Arthur is dressed, he crouches in front of Merlin and takes hold of both his hands.

“Don’t look so sad.”

“I mean, I feel that’s rather unfair. My mom just died and you’re leaving and—” Merlin swallows hard. He can feel the tears again. “Sorry,” he croaks. “I’m such a mess.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to leave, believe me. I’ll call you later?”

Merlin nods. “Okay.”

Arthur hesitates. “I’m not …” He pauses and chews on his bottom lip. “I’m not going to be with anyone else,” he says. “I know we didn’t resolve anything yet, but I wanted you to know that.”

“Oh. I guess you’ll expect me to cancel all my upcoming dates, then.”

Arthur flinches and then lets out a laugh. “Really? You’re not funny.”

“You just laughed. I’m a little funny.”

“Yeah … yeah, you are.”

It takes another ten minutes – and lots of kissing – before Arthur finally leaves. The apartment seems so quiet, too quiet. Merlin rings Guillaume. 

“ _Allo, t’es ou_ _?_ ”

“Hello, Will. I think I need ice cream. At least a gallon.”

“I’ll be right over.”

***

**October 2015**

> **Arthur:** _Leon’s contract is up_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I know._
> 
> **Arthur:** _My coach wants him_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Wtf you can’t text me that and then not answer your phone._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m at dinner with Gwaine_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Isn’t Gwaine your goalkeeper?? Why does Chicago want Leon??_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Are you making this up??_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Gwaine is going to play for Scotland next year. That’s where he’s from & he wants to be on their team for 2018_
> 
> **Merlin:** _He’s going to play in the World Cup?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _That’s his plan_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Leon just told me he’s flying to Chicago next week_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _Told you_
> 
> **Arthur:** :)

***

**November 2015**

> **Arthur:** _I’m ready to FaceTime when you are_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Photo_Attached:IMG_002_
> 
> **Merlin:** _If you’re going to send me photos like that, at least warn me with a NSFW heading or something!!_

***

**December 2015**

**Christmas – Vermont**

**_Arthur_ **

This year Arthur gets a cabin instead of a room at the lodge. It’s nestled in the mountains and is completely private. He hears Merlin’s car crunch through the snow and he forgets his coat as he races outside. Merlin has barely put the car in park before Arthur is hauling him out of the driver’s seat and crashing their mouths together. He tastes so good.

“Miss me?” Merlin mumbles against him.

“Uh huh.”

“Where’s your coat?”

“Inside.”

“Let me get my bag.” Merlin pops open the trunk and Arthur grabs the small suitcase while Merlin gets his coat from inside the car and locks the doors. 

Once they’re inside, Arthur takes the suitcase and puts it in the bedroom he’s already claimed. When he gets back into the living room, Merlin is standing in front of the fireplace, warming his hands. Arthur comes up behind him and curls his arms around his waist. Merlin turns around to face him and immediately kisses him. It’s slower and sweeter and Arthur’s breath catches in his throat.

“Talk first or bed first?” Merlin asks.

“Bed.”

“Thank god.”

***

Arthur flops on his back and tries to catch his breath. He’s a professional athlete, in the prime of his career. A little bit of sex shouldn’t wind him, but damn. Merlin pulled some moves they’d never done before and now they’re both breathing hard and coming down from their highs.

“That was maybe the best,” Arthur says.

“Top three for sure,” agrees Merlin.

“Did you watch some new porn or something? That last thing you did—”

“No porn. Just, you know.” Merlin shrugs. “Comfortable with you, I guess.”

They get up and pull on boxers. Arthur puts on track pants and a sweatshirt while Merlin digs around his bag. When he has on pajama bottoms and a jumper, they go into the main room. Arthur has a few things in the kitchenette. He hands Merlin a bottle of water and grabs a packet of popcorn to pop.

“I can go to the store tomorrow or we can get food from the restaurant in the lodge.”

“Together?”

“They’ll box up food for us to bring back here.”

“Ah,” says Merlin. 

Arthur doesn’t miss the disappointed expression on Merlin’s face. It’s definitely time to talk. Once the popcorn is done, Arthur pours it into a bowl for them to share and takes it to the sofa. He turns the gas key on the fireplace to increase the fire and then sits. Only the bowl separates them.

“So,” Merlin says. “Are you ready for this? The talk?”

“No. I’m scared, actually.”

“Why?”

“It may not end where either of us want it to.”

“I know,” Merlin says, his voice soft. “I do love you, though. I want you to know that.”

“I’ve never been in love before,” says Arthur. “Not before you. And I really didn’t know what I was feeling until I was in the middle of it. But now I know.”

Merlin offers him a small smile. “All right, so first of all, I guess the big question is, what do you want?”

“You.”

“Right, but how? In a perfect world where we take location and career out of the equation, I know I want to be with you. As in, in a relationship.”

Arthur nods. “Me too. How do we make that happen?”

“I live in Montréal and you live in Chicago.”

“One of us should move.”

“It’s not that easy,” Merlin says. “I don’t have a job in Chicago.”

“Chicago is officially looking for a new goalkeeper coach.”

Merlin is quiet. Arthur doesn’t know how to interpret silence.

“The most time we’ve ever spent together is four days in New York over a year ago,” Merlin finally says. “What if I go to Chicago and we realize we aren’t going to work out? Then I’m working for a team that has you on it and we’d have to see each other all the time. Assuming I get the job in the first place.”

“Are they signing Leon?”

“I don’t know yet. He hasn’t said.”

“If they’re interested enough in Leon, why wouldn’t they be interested you? You guys are a great duo. You transformed him over the last four seasons.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think I’m going to renew my contract anyway. I’ll play for the national teams, but I think I want to focus on our startup.”

“The ethically sourced sporting goods? How is Gwaine going to do that from Scotland?”

“He has a plan. Lance is part of it, too. We’re meeting with an investment firm in January. It could really take off. If it does, that’s what I think I want to do. Soccer is great and I love it, but I don’t like the fame.”

Merlin nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“What I mean is, even if we don’t work out, I won’t be on the team forever. Besides, I really don’t think that’s going to happen. I have more faith than you do apparently.”

“It’s not faith,” Merlin argues, “it’s reality. But let’s say all that happens. Which sounds amazing. But let’s say it happens … you’re still in the closet. Half in the closet, anyway. I want to be able to spend Christmas in Vermont with my boyfriend and eat at the lodge restaurant without fear of a photographer outing us. I’d want to already _be_ out.”

“Already calling me your boyfriend, are you?”

Merlin flushes. “I guess we’ll make that decision at the end of the conversation.”

“I’m not ashamed of being bi.”

“I know you’re not.”

Arthur takes in a deep breath. “I think I’d only want to come out if I knew we were going to be together. Otherwise it wouldn’t be worth it. If you were in Chicago and we were together, then I’d do it. Not before.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for me, too. Think about it – you’d only be coming out for _me_. Not for you.”

“It would be relieving,” Arthur admits.

“I couldn’t accept a position on the coaching staff if they didn’t know about us. It would be an HR nightmare if it got out and they hadn’t known how to prepare.”

“Right,” says Arthur, “that makes sense.” He pauses and then asks, “How much money do you have saved up?”

“Er, a bit … why?”

“What happens if you don’t get the job on the coaching staff? Would you still come to Chicago? Find a different job?”

“I don’t know what I would do.”

“University level coach, maybe?”

“That’s asking a lot of me,” Merlin says.

“I’ll move to Montreal when my contract is over. It would be a lot of long-distance until then, but the flights between Chicago and Montreal aren’t long.”

“That’s a lot, too. Long-distance, I mean.”

“It’d be worth it,” says Arthur. 

“Maybe. What about you coming out?”

Arthur groans. “I don’t know. Maybe in stages. My sister already knows I’m bi. I’d have to tell my publicist and my agent and the coaching staff. Then the players. After that, I’m not sure. I’d want to come out in a controlled way. I mean, I wouldn’t want a Buzzfeed list about my sexuality. I’d rather be the one making the announcement.”

“Trying to be in a relationship with one another is going to turn both of our lives upside down. You’ll have to come out eventually and one of us will have to move. I’ll potentially have to do some sort of career change. There’s a _lot_ riding on us working out.”

“It’d be worth it,” Arthur says again. “Don’t you think?”

Merlin is quiet for a moment. He seems to be studying Arthur. Then he nods. “Yeah … yeah, I do. But I’m not going to let you move to Montréal. Honestly, in all my daydreams about what life with you might be like, none of the scenarios in my head included Canada. They were all in Chicago.” Merlin swallows. “I don’t know if I have enough savings to support myself for long-term in Chicago if I don’t find a job right away and I don’t want you to help me financially. Maybe if I start now I can find something before the seasons start. I have a contract from Montréal at home waiting to be signed. I haven’t signed it yet. I was waiting for this conversation. I was holding on to hope that we could make something work between us.”

“We can,” Arthur insists. “So what does this mean? I can finally call you mine – for real mine – and you’re going to look for jobs in Chicago?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before slowly letting it back out. “Yes.”

Arthur launches himself at Merlin and knocks the popcorn onto the floor. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

Merlin responds by kissing him.

***

**January 2016**

**Chicago**

**_Merlin_ **

The Head Coach, Josef Kilgharrah, shows Merlin around the practice facility in Chicago. They stop on the field and then to the locker rooms and the offices. It’s nicer than Impact’s facilities, but it’s also almost brand new. When they’re done with the tour, they head back to Kilgharrah’s office where they sit and continue talking.

“We were about to contact you when you reached out to us,” he says. 

“Really?” asks Merlin, surprised.

“Leon told us you might be looking for another team, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve never tried to get a coach to switch teams, usually it’s only players that do that.”

“Right.”

“You never played on a club team?”

“No.”

“That’s unusual. Not unheard of, but unusual.”

“I played in college,” says Merlin. “Goalkeeper. I was never good enough to play elsewhere, but I’m a good coach. Always was.”

“I can tell.” Kilgharrah clasps his hands together on top of his desk and leans forward. “I’m very interested in bringing you on. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?”

Merlin grimaces. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “I want to say no, but you may have a different opinion once I tell you.”

Kilgharrah’s eyebrows shoot up. He looks intrigued. “Go on.”

“I’m in a relationship with one of your players. He gave me permission to tell you. We decided it would be best for you to make the decision knowing that it could bring some unwanted publicity if it got out.”

“Is that why Leonardo wants you to come here?”

“What?” Merlin laughs. “No, no, it’s not Leon.”

“Then who?”

“Does it matter?”

Kilgharrah seems to consider this. “Hmmm. I suppose not. There’s a lot of implications here though.”

“If I’m a goalkeeper coach, then I’m focusing on the goalkeepers. I’m not focusing on any of the other players.”

“Except I wouldn’t be bringing you on as a goalkeeper coach. That position’s been filled. We need another assistant coach.”

“Oh.” Merlin’s heart drops. “Well, shit.”

“I think the implications of a relationship between coach and player could be detrimental if not handled correctly, especially if it’s a player who vying for a lot of field time. News outlets could twist it as manipulative or—”

“He has no issue getting field time.”

Kilgharrah opens his mouth to respond and then shuts it. He taps his fingers against his desk. “I only have three players who get field time who aren’t married.”

Merlin shrugs.

“Lance du Lac, Arthur Pendragon, and Percy Wales.

Merlin shrugs again.

“Fuck me with a spear. Unwanted publicity indeed. I’m going to have to talk to some people.”

“I understand.”

Kilgharrah stands and offers Merlin his hand to shake. “I’ll be in touch.”

***

_I’ll be in touch_ ended up being forty-eight hours later. Merlin has been staying at Arthur’s apartment with him for the last week. He realizes that it’s mid-year for all the colleges and universities, but he still sends resumes to all the athletic departments, just in case. There’s something about the MLS, though, that he wants to continue to be a part of.

So far being with Arthur has been easy. It’s only been a few weeks since Christmas, but Arthur has already come to Montréal once to visit and now Merlin is in Chicago. He met Arthur’s sister over Christmas and she pretty much fell in love with him and demanded that Arthur never let him go. It was nice to know that Arthur not only wanted his sister to meet him, but that they actually liked each other.

When Arthur was in Montréal he met Uncle Gaius and Will both. Gaius liked him right away, but Will had reservations. Of course, according to Will no one was ever good enough for Merlin, so he told Arthur not to take it personally. 

Even now, being in Arthur’s flat felt right. He thought it might be awkward because their relationship started a little backwards. Normally people admit they like each other, date, have sex, and then declare love. They went from sex to declaring love and forgot about the dating part. It was okay, though, and they seem to have worked through the weirdness.

The only parts Merlin seems unsure about is uprooting his life to Chicago. He’s going to do it – he wants to do it – but it doesn’t mean it’s not scary. He is deeply in love with Arthur; he hopes that’s enough.

When his phone rings two days after the meeting with the Head Coach, Merlin lazily answers it. 

“ _Allo, t’es ou?_ ”

“I’m looking for a Merlin Emrys.”

“Oh, sorry, that’s me.”

When he gets off the phone, he immediately orders an Uber. Arthur is at the gym. They tried to work out together, but Arthur’s routine is sometimes three hours a day during the off season and Merlin has no desire to spend that much time working out. He sends Arthur a text, letting him know he has another meeting with the Fire coaches.

The Uber drops him off at the practice field and he makes his way to the conference room opposite Kilgharrah’s office. When he gets there, he’s surprised to see another one of the coaches and two other people he’s never met before.

“Hello, Merlin,” Kilgharrah says.

“ _Salut_ ,” Merlin replies.

“Have a seat. We’re waiting on one more. Ah, there he is.”

Merlin turns around to see who Kilgharrah is talking about and does a doubletake. Arthur stands in the doorway, still in his gym clothes, and looking a little sweaty around his temples. He’s at least put on a sweatshirt, but those track pants are almost paper thin. It couldn’t have been pleasantly walking through the parking lot without proper winter attire.

“Hey,” Arthur says, glancing around the room. “What’s going on?”

“A meeting to talk about the future employment of your boyfriend to Chicago Fire Football Club. Take a seat.”

***

**February 2016**

**Preseason – Columbus**

**_Arthur_ **

Arthur tries to focus on the movie he’s playing on his Netflix app, but his eyes keep wandering to the front of the bus where Merlin sits next to one of the other coaches. He wants to be sitting next to him on this stupid bus ride to Ohio. Five hours is a long time to be on the same vehicle but not next to one another.

“Why’re you so distracted?” Lance asks. “You keep fidgeting.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur says.

Leon is in the seat directly in front of him and turns around. “You keep kicking the back of my seat.”

“Do I really? Sorry,” Arthur mumbles.

“Are you having girl trouble?” Lance asks.

Leon snorts and then quickly turns back around and faces forward again. Arthur tries to ignore him.

“I’m fine. First away game. A little nervous.”

“It’ll be a good year,” Lance says. “I’m ready for it. The new assistant coach is a bit of a hard-ass, though, isn’t he? It’s good, though. He’s better than the last guy.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he got a raise coming here?”

Arthur shrugs. “Not sure.”

“You worked with him before, didn’t you?” Lance asks, leaning a bit forward towards the seats in front of him. 

Leon turns again. “Yes. In Montreal.”

“How was he there?”

“He’s good. He’ll tell you every players’ strength and weaknesses so when you’re up against them you know what to do. He really studies the old game footage, finds patterns. I like him.”

“Cool. We lost in the semi-finals last year. I want to win this year. The US Open, I mean.”

“We all want to win,” Arthur comments.

“I overheard Coach talking to one of the lawyers about him.”

“About who?”

“The new guy. Merlin.”

Arthur exchanges a glance with Leon and then clears his throat. “What’d you hear?”

“Not much. Just something about a potential liability and they hope it ends up being worth it in the end. What do you think that means?”

“Gossip,” Arthur says.

“Was he a liability in Montreal?” Lance asks Leon.

“Nope. We were kind of friends. Like, as much as you can be friends with a coach, you know?”

Arthur watches as the guy sitting next to Merlin gets up and makes it down the back of the bus to the bathroom. 

“Excuse me,” he says, standing. He leaves Lance and Leon behind and carefully walks down the aisle towards the front seats. He slides in next to Merlin. “ _Salut_.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows. “ _Bonjour_.”

“ _Comment allez-vous_ _?_ ”

“ _Comment ça va_ ,” Merlin corrects. “ _Vous_ is too formal for me. But close enough. And _je suis bien_. What’s up?”

“It’s a long bus ride.”

Merlin smirks. “Yeah.”

“And I don’t even get to share a hotel room with you.”

“I know.”

Arthur sits back in the seat. “This might get old.”

“In a few months you’ll probably be glad for the time apart.”

“You already insisted on getting your own apartment. How much more time do you really expect to spend apart?”

“I had no idea you were so needy.”

Arthur glares and Merlin laughs. “All right, I guess I’m going back to my seat. I won’t say no to some dirty texts, though.”

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

***

**March 2016**

> **Merlin:** _Are you coming over?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You had me benched today!!!_
> 
> **Merlin:** _That’s rather dramatic. You twisted your knee. You needed the time off it._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I was fine_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Except you weren’t. You were compensating for the pain, favoring the other leg. I could tell._
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m not giving you special treatment just because you occasionally blow me. You’re a player and will get treated like a player when we’re on the field._
> 
> **Arthur:** _OCCASIONALLY? Your cock is FREQUENTLY in my mouth wtf_
> 
> **Merlin:** _On the field you’re a player. Are you coming over or not?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _No I’m pissed_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You had me benched_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Be an adult, Arthur._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’d rather not thanks_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Photo_Attached:IMG_184_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You play dirty_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll see you in 20 minutes. I’ll leave the door unlocked._

***

**April 2016**

> **Lance:** _Where R U?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Almost there sorry something came up_
> 
> **Lance:** _Gwaine is only N town 4 1 nite. We R having shots w/o U_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Sorry sorry I’m leaving my apartment now_
> 
> **Lance:** _Lame. U were supposed 2 B here 30 mins ago._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I had an unexpected guest stop by not my fault_
> 
> **Lance:** _Next time blow UR bf on ur own timeline_
> 
> **Arthur:** _What bf?_
> 
> **Lance:** _U R not as subtle as U think_.
> 
> **Lance** : _I’ve seen U check out guys B4 when we go out. I don’t care BTW._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Interesting. I always thought I was properly mysterious like that_
> 
> **Lance:** _Nope_

***

**May 2016**

**Game #15 – Orlando**

**_Merlin_ **

A little less than half the team stays behind in Orlando to go to Disney World. Merlin has never been so he talks Arthur into going with him. Arthur figures out a way to manipulate the rooms so that he and Merlin can share without anyone thinking anything odd about it. Last season he always stayed with either Lance or Gwaine, but this year it’s been Lance. Leon has always been the odd man out since he’s new to the team, but Arthur, out of the pure goodness of his heart, gives up his room with Lance so that Leon can finally share with a teammate he’s actually friends with. This leaves Arthur the odd man out and since Merlin is the only coach staying, well, then it makes him the odd man out too.

They wait in line for the Haunted Mansion, Merlin and Arthur with Leon and Lance. It’s a fairly long line, but Merlin doesn’t mind. He’s pretty sure he’s not the only thirty-three year old man super excited to be at Disney right now, so he’s giving his enthusiasm a pass.

“You’ve never been?” Lance asks.

“No. My mom usually took me on beach holidays growing up.”

“I went a bunch when I was a kid.”

“I’ve been once,” says Arthur. “When we first moved here.”

“This is my second time,” Leon says. “My girlfriend is an annual passholder so she took me a few weeks ago for the weekend.”

“Cool,” says Lance.

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Merlin. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

“Couple months,” Leon admits. “She lives in my building.”

“Wow, good for you. I had no idea. I hope she’s nicer than that last nightmare you dated.”

“So far so good. Getting laid regularly is a big plus.”

Merlin smirks. “I’ll bet it is.”

“What’s she look like?” Lance asks. “What’s she do?”

Leon pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through it. He finds a picture and shows it to Lance and then to Merlin and Arthur. “She’s a nurse at the hospital.”

“That’s great, Leon,” Merlin says. “Seriously.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Lance asks Merlin.

“What? Me? No.” He clears his throat and fidgets with the magic band on his wrist. 

“There are some great places to meet women in Chicago if you’re interested.”

Merlin has to concentrate really hard not to look at Arthur. He can feel him tense beside him.

“Oh really?” Merlin says. “What kinds of places?”

Leon smirks and rolls his eyes, but Lance launches into a speech all about the best places in Chicago. Merlin indulges him and carries the conversation along as the line moves closer to the ride. 

“I’ve been to a couple of those bars,” says Merlin.

“When?” Arthur asks.

Merlin ignores him. “But they’re not really my scene, you know?”

“Too loud?” asks Lance.

“Too heterosexual,” Merlin replies.

“Oh.” Then, “ _Oh_. I shouldn’t have assumed. That’s cool. I don’t care, by the way. I dunno why I always feel the need to say that, but.” He shrugs.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“I said the same thing to this asshole.” Lance points his thumb towards Arthur. 

A woman in front of them turns around and snaps at them about watching their language around children. Lance mumbles out an apology.

“Anyway, I said the same thing to this a-hole and he never thanked me.”

“Thank you for what?” Arthur scoffs.

“Being supportive of you being bi.”

Arthur rubs his eyes. “I’m supposed to thank you? For what? Being a decent human being?”

Merlin elbows him lightly. “He’s trying to be a good friend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur says. 

“It’s fine. Everyone knows you’re a bit of an asshole.” When the lady turns around again, Lance bites out, “I know! I’m sorry!” He rolls his eyes and turns his back to her. “Okay, Merlin, so do you have a boyfriend then?”

At this, Leon coughs into his elbow to cover up a laugh. They move up right to the doors of the ride. The lady in front of them and her kids disappear into the ride while they wait outside.

Merlin isn’t sure how to answer Lance’s questions, especially not with Arthur standing right next to him. He pauses and considers all the different ways this could go. He could lie, but that isn’t something he wants to do. He could say yes and then potentially have to figure out how to answer additional questions. When he glances at Arthur, Arthur looks a little sad, which is surprising. Merlin thought he’d look scared or nervous.

“I … am … in a relationship. Yes.”

“You sound unsure.”

“Haha, no, I’m pretty sure.”

“Did he follow you from Canada?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you’re with him now?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

Merlin is caught off guard. “Uh, four years? Kind of?”

“Wow, four years, that’s a while.”

“I guess.” Merlin’s pulse quickens. “Unofficially, I mean. Just casual for a while. But now … exclusive. I think.”

“You think?” Arthur smirks. 

“Does he live in Chicago?”

“Yes…” Merlin clears his throat. “My relationship really isn’t that interesting.”

“You joined the team and none of us really know you, except for Leon – hey the two of you aren’t?”

“No,” Merlin and Leon say at the same time.

Leon laughs. “I really do have a girlfriend and it’s coincidence that we both signed on to Chicago at the same time.”

“You have a picture of him?” Lance asks.

“I’m sorry – what?”

“A picture of him.”

“You really want to see a picture of my boyfriend?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I don’t think I have any,” Merlin lies. He knows for sure he has a hidden album of all the dirty pictures Arthur’s sent him and another of all the random selfies they’d taken, almost exclusively in bed.

“Show him,” Arthur says. “Go ahead.”

Merlin stares at him, trying to telepathically ask if he’s lost his goddamn mind, but when Arthur gives him a single nod, he pulls out his phone and shuffles through the photos. He takes a deep breath and turns the phone around.

Lance glances at it and then grabs his from his hand. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” he cries. Merlin chose a picture of him and Arthur in Vermont. It’s one of the few photos that someone else took for them. Morgana had snapped it, somewhat candidly, one night when they were all drinking spiked cider in the cabin. They’d just gone outside to watch the sun set over the snowy mountain. If Lance swipes through the pictures, he’ll see one of Arthur standing behind Merlin with his hands around his waist, followed immediately by a picture of Merlin turning around and putting his arms around Arthur’s neck, and then rounding it off with one of them kissing. 

The doors to the ride open and they walk into the room with the stretching portraits. It’s dark and Merlin tries to rescue his phone, but Lance is still staring at it. 

“Is this for real?” he asks. 

The doors close and the recording for the ride starts.

“Did you know about this?” he asks Leon.

“Shh!” someone next to him shushes.

Lance groans but stays quiet. When the next door opens and they’re shuffled to the next line to actually board the ride, Lance keeps asking questions.

“Yeah, I’ve known for a couple years,” Leon answers.

“Years!” Lance practically shouts. “Are you – _years_? How is that even possible?”

“First preseason game in 2012,” Arthur says with a shrug. “Montreal versus Chicago.”

“This is crazy! I’ve seen you take women home since then, though. Oh, shit, that wasn’t a secret, was it? I’m so—”

“No, it wasn’t exclusive back then.”

“Watch your step,” one of the ride cast-members said.

“Get in the ride with Leon,” Arthur instructs. Merlin laughs as he boards one of the black cars, Arthur right behind him.

“Oh my god, this is why you made me room with Leon this trip!”

“Sir, please board the ride,” the cast-member asks.

Lance groans and jumps into the car behind them. Merlin can hear Leon laughing behind them. Arthur grabs hold of Merlin’s hand and gives it a squeeze. 

“I hope that was okay,” he says.

Merlin nods. “Thank you.”

“He won’t tell the team. I trust him.”

Merlin keeps hold of his hand throughout the ride. 

***

**June 2016**

> **Lance:** _stop blowing each other & come downstairs. We R waiting on U_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’m pretty sure you cannot speak to one of your coaches like that._
> 
> **Arthur:** _He’s jealous, let him be_
> 
> **Lance:** _GIF_attached:Robert_Downy_Jr_Eyeroll_
> 
> **Lance:** _Seriously the whole team is waiting 4 U 2 get here so we can all go 2 dinner @ that place_
> 
> **Arthur:** _We’re getting on the elevator, calm down_
> 
> **Leon:** _Why do you insist on always adding me to these group texts? I’m sitting right next to you._
> 
> **Lance:** _B/c U have 2 suffer w/ me_
> 
> **Leon:** _GIF_attached:KristenBell_MiddleFinger_
> 
> **Lance:** _UR hilarious_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Stop flirting with each other & get on the bus everyone is waiting on you_
> 
> **Lance:** _WTF R U a time traveler?? How R U already on the bus??_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Get a move on buttercup_

***

**July 2016**

> **Merlin:** _Link: Chicago Likely to Win US Open if Team Continues on Current Trend_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Obviously. There’s a reason our team is called Chicago FIRE_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Link: Chicago Fire FC Arthur Pendragon Signs Deal with Gucci_
> 
> **Arthur:** _I did no such thing_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Link: Arthur Pendragon Sparks Rumors Over Sexuality_
> 
> **Arthur:** _again? What’d I do now?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _those pics are 2 years old_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You should come over_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Too tired_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _Come over & take a nap then_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Too far_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _idk why you insist on living on the other side of the bloody city_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Because my contract wasn’t seven figures._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I’m coming over to pick you up & bring you back here_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I’ll be asleep._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Fine then I’m coming over to I guess go to sleep with you_
> 
> **Merlin:** :)

*******

**August 2016**

> **Arthur:** _I have an idea_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I am not going into the bus bathroom and taking dirty pictures for you._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Just hear me out_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No._
> 
> **Arthur** : _I only have maybe 5 naughty Merlin pics & you have a million_
> 
> **Merlin:** _347_
> 
> **Arthur:** _LOL_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No that’s the exact number. I have them all saved to a photo album on my phone._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Seriously??_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Do you use them as inspiration when you’re alone?_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Are you asking me if I jerk off to pictures of you?_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Duh_
> 
> **Merlin:** _If I’m alone in my apartment then sometimes_
> 
> **Arthur:** _holy shit that’s so hot_
> 
> **Arthur:** _You should video that sometime for me_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No._
> 
> **Arthur:** _You should get the goalkeeper coach to room with Leon so I can come room with you_
> 
> **Merlin:** _He’ll never go for it_. _It’s only one night_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _It might be more bareable if you lived with me & I saw you every night but I don’t so now its even more nights I don’t see you_
> 
> **Merlin:** _*bearable_
> 
> **Merlin:** _*it’s_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I heard you groan from all the way up here_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _You’re exasperating._
> 
> **Merlin:** _I know._
> 
> **Arthur:** _That was my not so subtle hint that we should live together_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I got that hint. I’m ignoring it._
> 
> **Merlin:** _For now._

***

**September 2016**

> **Arthur:** _Link: 1855 N Hudson Ave For Sale $1.3M_
> 
> **Merlin:** _No._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Why not? It’s cheaper than all the others I’ve shown you_
> 
> **Merlin:** _It’s not the price. It’s not me. I like historic homes. They can be updated inside but I don’t want a new construction. It feels cold._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Link: 1900 Burling Street For Sale $2.1M_
> 
> **Merlin:** _Better but I can’t afford that_.
> 
> **Arthur:** _Who cares? I can._
> 
> **Merlin:** _If you want me to move in with you then it has to be a house we BOTH like. We’re in your city, at least compromise on the house._
> 
> **Arthur:** _I would’ve gone to Montreal_
> 
> **Merlin:** _I know._
> 
> **Arthur:** _See if we lived together we wouldn’t have to have this conversation via text you could be in the same room as me_
> 
> **Arthur:** _Let’s set a timeline on this. If we don’t find a house by Halloween you move into my apt_
> 
> **Merlin:** _If you win the US Open I’ll move in to your apt._
> 
> **Arthur:** _You play dirty but we all know we’re the favorites to win_
> 
> **Merlin:** _You guys always choke in the semifinals._
> 
> **Arthur:** _Ouch_
> 
> **Arthur:** _It’s a bet_

***

**October 2016**

**US Open – Chicago**

**_Merlin_ **

There are six of them at the table; normally Merlin wouldn’t even be up here, but considering their goalkeeper didn’t let a single ball past him during the penalty shoot-out, the press may have questions for his old goalkeeper coach. He doesn’t feel as though he belongs up here, certainly not sitting between the head coach and Chicago’s star player. He tries to concentrate as the press asks their questions. He doesn’t actually expect any to be directed at him. 

“Arthur,” one of the journalists in the front row asks, “this was your best season ever – what made this year different?”

Arthur clears his throat and leans a little closer to the microphone. “The team knows each other now, we are a united front. Great players, great coaches.”

“Leon,” another journalist starts, “how’d it feel to have a game with zero goals scored on you?”

“Amazing.”

Merlin smirks. Leon is a man of few words.

“Leon” – another journalist, this one Merlin recognizes from ESPN – “what went through your mind when you blocked that final kick?”

“I thought ‘finally!’”

There’s a low roar of laughter.

“And then,” Leon continues, “I thought about my girlfriend in the stands, watching me, and she’s my biggest fan, you know? It was nice knowing she was able to see me do something great.”

“Lance,” a different journalist says, “what about you? You also had your best season yet. What went through your mind tonight?”

Merlin’s eyes drift over the room. Journalists from different magazines, news outlets, blogs, all in the room to ask them questions about their season. He feels Arthur shift in the seat next to him. Arthur has always enjoyed being the center of attention on the field, but enjoys talking about himself less. It’s an interesting balance Merlin’s noticed over the years. 

Then a question for Arthur flags Merlin’s attention.

“Arthur, bear with my question for a moment. You’ve never had a platform before, but now that you’re one of the most popular players in the league, do you think now is the time to tell people what you stand for?”

Arthur clears his throat. “I don’t understand the question. There are some things that are in the works that I can’t talk about yet, but I don’t know that I would call it a platform.” 

Lance leans back and whispers something in Arthur’s ear. Arthur shakes his head.

“Let me rephrase, the reporter says. Two years ago you were photographed leaving a gay bar. Your statements afterwards weren’t really statements at all. You acknowledged being there, but you didn’t take a stance on the LGBTQ community.”

“You didn’t ask a question,” Arthur says. “Can we move on?”

Another reporter latched on to the subject. “Arthur, can you explain why you’ve never taken a stance on LGBTQ issues?”

“Because they don’t have a place in soccer.” When the room explodes in questions and raised hands, Arthur waves his own hand in the air. “Wait, wait. No, I didn’t explain that well. We play soccer. It shouldn’t matter how any identifies because on the field, we are all soccer players, end of story. The rest doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about soccer and how we won the US Open.”

As the reporters in the room raise their hands for more questions, Arthur whispers in Merlin’s ear, “This is fucking out of control.”

“Arthur, do you care to comment on the photo or take a stance on any LGBTQ issues?”

Arthur rubs one of his eyes and clears his throat. He leans a little closer to the microphone. “Yes, I was leaving a gay bar. I was leaving alone, which no one ever seems to want to talk about. Yes, I went to the bar knowing it was a gay bar.”

“What about your stances on LGBTQ issues?’ the reporter shouts, trying to get their question answered again.

“Like what issues? Are there gay soccer issues I should be commenting on?”

Merlin can hear Lance’s snicker from two seats away.

“Arthur – Arthur – are you gay?”

“No.” Merlin watches him, he can see his body tense. This is absolutely not what either of them expected from this press conference. 

“Can we get back on track?” Kilgharrah says into his mic. He’s sitting on the other side of Merlin. “We’re here to talk about how Chicago won the US Open.”

When another reporter is called upon, he says, “So, Arthur, you’re saying you’re not part of the LGBTQ community?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment before saying, “No, that’s not what I said.”

“ _Oh shit_ ,” Merlin mutters under his breath. He waits one second, two seconds, three …

And then all the reporters in the room work out what Arthur has just said and chaos erupts. Merlin is ready for one of the publicists or agents to step in, but none of them do. He can’t believe they’re allowing this to go on. Merlin puts his hand over his mic and then Arthur does the same.

“You don’t have to do this,” Merlin whispers in his ear.

“I really wanted to talk about soccer. You think they’ll let it go if I refuse to answer?”

“It’s up to you. I’ll support you whichever way you decide.” It’s only a matter of time before the world finds out. By now most of the team knows. They do a good job of keeping it professional on the field and in the offices. It’s a rule they both agreed to at the very beginning of the season. Merlin knows Arthur wanted to come out on his own terms, not like this.

Then Merlin remembers what Kilgharrah once said to him at the beginning of the season. He keeps his hand over his mic but turns to the head coach. When Kilgharrah leans closer to him, Merlin whispers, “Am I still a liability?”

“We won the US Open, so I’m thinking the liability is pretty low.”

Merlin sits back in his chair and listens as Arthur fends off more questions.

“Are you in an alternative relationship?”

“I thought we were here to talk about soccer?”

The reporter buckles down and repeats the question.

“I am in a relationship, yes. There is nothing alternative about it. It’s pretty normal.”

“Is the relationship with a man or a woman?”

“I’m not the only player in the room. We won the US Open if anyone cares to talk about that.”

“How long have you been in a relationship?”

“No comment.”

“How does it feel to be a gay soccer player?”

Arthur hangs his head in defeat. He takes a deep breath before looking up. “You guys don’t give up, do you?”

A low chuckle fills the room and then silence.

“I am a soccer player. For the last two years people want to talk about my private life more than my career, which I don’t understand. I’m actually really boring. I’m just a soccer player, plain and simple. But I’m a soccer player who has a private relationship with someone of the same gender. Let’s not make this something that it’s not. I am in a committed relationship with another man, yes. He moved to Chicago in February so we could be together, but we’ve been off and on since 2012. Yes, we are fully committed. No, I will not comment on children or marriage. No, I will not give you his name.”

Arthur pushes the microphone away and sits back in his seat. Merlin can tell he’s on the edge of something. He can feel his stress, but this is not the place to reach for him. He surreptitiously nudges him with the toe of his shoe instead. Arthur blinks but doesn’t look at him.

“Kilgharrah, do you think having a gay soccer player will effect next year’s fans?”

“Why would it?” Kilgharrah answers roughly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Pendragon is one of the top players in the league. We’ve had full knowledge of his relationship for the entire season. We support him. Full stop.”

“Does everyone on the team know? Is he the only gay player?”

Kilgharrah answers, “I cannot speak for anyone else on the team, but no, he is not the only one in the MLS. There are other players and coaches from this team and other teams who are LGBTQ. We support all of them. He is not the first gay player and he won’t be the last.”

“Did you just admit you have coaches on your team who are gay?”

“That’s not what I said.”

The questions seem endless and Merlin is starting to feel overwhelmed by it all. He can only imagine how Arthur is feeling.

Suddenly Leon leans forward and clears his throat. “I know no one asked, but I’m bi. I have a girlfriend, but.” He shrugs.

Lance immediately goes next. “I’m an ally, which means I’m straight but I support all my LGBTQ friends, players, and coaches.”

“I’m also bi,” Arthur clarifies, “not gay.”

Merlin looks at the mic in front of him and leans forward to speak into it. “I am gay.”

“I’m an ally,” Kilgharrah says. “Which I now know what what that means thanks to the guys on the team.”

The reporters start to yell their questions again and Merlin is ready to leave. This is too much. And he wonders when someone is going to do the math on what Arthur said. He looks through the sea of journalists and then his eye catches one. The woman has a messy blonde bun on the top of her head with a pencil sticking through it. She’s chewing on the end of a pen and something about the look in her eye tells him that she’s beginning to figure it all out. Then she raises her hand and is called upon.

“My question is actually for Coach Emrys.”

Merlin tries to keep his face neutral, but his heart is about to beat right through his chest and his palms are sweaty.

“What made you decide to leave Montreal for Chicago in February?”

Merlin feels dizzy. “My contract was up and I was looking for a change of scenery.” 

“Was the scenery Pendragon’s apartment?”

At this, one of the team’s publicist grabs a mic and starts to shut down the press conference, but Lance takes hold of his own mic and begins to speak.

“You guys can be monsters. Two years ago Arthur leaves a gay bar and it was all over the news when something like that shouldn’t be newsworthy in the first place. And now we win the US Open in an amazing victory but no one cares about that. Get a life.”

Merlin feels a wave of affection for Lance. Then he feels Arthur’s hand on his back. He’s turned towards Merlin and is whispering in his ear. He barely registers any of it and then Arthur is speaking into the mic, too, but he keeps his hand on Merlin.

“My PR rep is going to have a massive coronary,” Arthur jokes. “But since I’m here and since I guess we’re doing this, I should come all the way out.”

Merlin can hear Kilgharrah and the team’s publicist groan.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon. I am bisexual. I am in a committed relationship with Merlin Emrys—”

“You forgot loving,” Lance says into his mic. “A loving, committed relationship.”

“Hey, when you have a big coming out speech, you can say whatever you like.”

Lance laughs and sits back in his chair.

“I know the team’s PR reps and lawyers have had a whole speech prepared since February because they knew this day would come, so I think I’ll let one of them read it.”

Arthur stands and offers a hand to Merlin. He looks at it like he’s never seen a hand before but then takes it. Arthur curls their fingers together and Merlin is immediately grateful. He lets Arthur lead him out of the room.

***

Arthur leads Merlin into the locker room. No one else is in there, the rest of the team has cleared out and gone out to celebrate. At least it’s quiet in here.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on any of that, and then I wasn’t planning on saying your name until it came out.”

“It’s all right. No one really knows who I am right now. My face isn’t recognizable.”

“I kept thinking about how I really want to go out with you. That’s why I did it.”

“You were amazing in there. I was overwhelmed by it all.”

Arthur pulls Merlin close. “I love you.”

Merlin grins. “I love you, too.”

“Now that we have that settled, here’s the million dollar question … how do we escape this place with all the journalists everywhere?”

***

**July 2020**

**Venice, California**

**_Arthur_ **

“This is torture,” Arthur groans. “Absolute torture.”

Merlin increases the sound. “Why? I think it’s fantastic.”

“It’s too sad. At least let’s watch something that isn’t soccer.”

“Oh! NBC is showing gymnastics!” Merlin grabs the remote and changes the channel.

Arthur sighs but doesn’t argue. All the sports networks have programmed previous Olympic games and are airing them for the entire week. Since the 2020 Olympics were postponed, it’s supposed to be the next best thing, but Arthur just finds it depressing.

“I should be there,” he says.

“You’ll be there in 2021. And then in Qatar in 2022 for the World Cup.”

“You’re assuming I’ll still be on the national team! I could get old and fat by then and too out of shape to play.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’re thirty-three, you’re not ancient. Calm down.”

“It’ll be weird playing in Qatar. They don’t like gay people there.”

“A lot of countries don’t like gay people. Russia doesn’t like gay people but you were going to play there if we’d gone far enough in the finals.”

“Stop being rational,” Arthur says with a sigh. “Do you think I’ll make it to Paris in 2024? I’ll be really fucking old by then, though.”

“You’re ‘really fucking old’ now.”

“Ha ha. At least I’d be able to speak French.”

Merlin snorts. “Speak French? Everything you know is vulgar.”

“At least it’s legal to be gay in France.”

“It’s legal to be gay almost anywhere,” Merlin argues. “Acting upon it, well, that’s a different story.”

Arthur sighs. He watches one of the American gymnasts from 2016 flip in the air. “Quarantine is bullshit. I can’t play soccer. I can’t go to Tokyo.”

“You can still annoy me, so that’s something that hasn’t changed.”

“You think you’re hilarious.”

Arthur’s phone vibrates against the glass top of the coffee table. He glances at it.

“Is that Lance?”

“Yeah. He’s probably texting me more baby pictures. He’s so gross.”

“You secretly love it, don’t lie.”

Arthur shrugs.

“He misses you, too. He’s still back in Chicago and you’re out here with me.”

“At least Leon doesn’t assault you with pictures of his kids every day.”

“True,” Merlin admits. “I know you miss him, too, though.”

“He’s my best friend, of course I miss him.”

“We should invite them out here,” Merlin suggests. “We can take them to Disneyland or something.”

Arthur’s phone vibrates again so he picks it up. “Oh, good news, no baby pictures. He’s scheduling a meeting with a new investor,” he says. “He sent me a Zoom link.”

“That’s amazing!” Merlin gushes.

The four years since the epic press conference from hell have been wild. Busy and chaotic, but also wonderful and fulfilling. Merlin moved in about two months after the US Open, once the news had begun to really die down. Before that it was difficult for them to ever go out. Merlin could still go to stores or restaurants without anyone bothering him, but once Arthur was added then inevitably someone with a camera would find them. Arthur spent a lot of time at Merlin’s flat because no one had seemed to have figured out where Merlin lived. Once the world seemed to stop being so interested in them, Merlin broke his lease and moved in.

They spent almost nine months looking for a house, but ending up giving up the search when neither of them could find a place they both liked. Meanwhile, Arthur, Lance, and Gwaine were starting to get their new sporting company off the ground. That took another two years of finding the right products and the right locations and the right team to pull it off. But once they did, it was magic. It was everything Arthur dreamed of in owning his own company. The mission and the message became Arthur’s platform: ethically sourced materials produced in an ethical way. GAL Sports. They sold other labels, too, so long as they fit their criteria, but they also had their own personal line of products. Their children’s line was called Marco & Mouse.

Arthur only played one more season before he quit the club teams. He played for the US team and competed in the World Cup in 2018, but they were knocked out the very first round. He thought his next chance at victory would be in Tokyo, but now that’s been shelved. 

“Earth to Arthur. You okay?”

Arthur blinks. Then he nods. “Sorry.”

“We don’t have to watch gymnastics.”

“It’s okay. I know how much you love Simone Biles.”

“I mean, come on, who doesn’t? She’s amazing.” 

“ _Je t'aime plus que tout_.”

Merlin whimpers. “I love you, too.”

“Do that thing I like,” Arthur says. He takes the remote out of Merlin’s hand and tosses it on the floor. He leans over and kisses Merlin’s neck and lifts his shirt up over his head.

“ _Tu peux me sucer la bite_ ,” Merlin breathes, “ _…_ _et me baiser dans le cul_ _._ ”

Arthur groans. He’s been working on his French for years. He now knows what every dirty little thing Merlin says means. “ _Ton cul est si serré_.”

“You should open the doors,” Merlin says. “I want to hear the ocean while you fuck me.”

“Best part of moving to California.” Arthur jumps up and throws open the French doors to their balcony that overlooks the water. He breathes in the air. It’s hot outside, but the breeze usually takes the edge off. Keeping the windows and the doors open while they sleep has become their favorite thing.

“I thought the best part of moving to California was having your boyfriend be the Head Coach for LA?”

“Second youngest Head Coach ever. So hot.”

Merlin smirks and undoes the buttons to his jeans. Arthur crossed the living room and collapses back on the sofa, on top of Merlin.

“I really fucking love you,” Arthur says against Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin grins and kisses him. “ _Je sais_.”

***

**End.**


End file.
